The Drarry Chronicles
by zayjayoriginals
Summary: Harry travels to America to help a friend, and finds himself in a BDSM club run by Draco Malfoy. Soon he is drawn into an intricate web of seduction and confidence games. As they become closer, someone special is threatened, will Harry help him pull off his biggest hustle yet? Contains scenes of BDSM & Polyamory. A tribute to my fave shows, Leverage and Hustle (not crossover).
1. Departures and Arrivals

Harry slumped in his chair staring vacantly at the fireplace as he sipped the glass of firewhiskey. The flames turned bright green and flared up as Ron stepped out onto the hearth.

"Leave it, Ron," Harry muttered as his friend opened his mouth to speak, not bothering to meet his gaze.

"But you can't just let it all go like that, Harry. You can work this out."

"No, we can't. She doesn't want to, and frankly, I haven't the energy to fight another battle." Harry knocked back the remaining firewhiskey and got to his feet, dismissing his friend as he moved towards the door of the parlor. Ron grabbed his arm.

"Are you saying that my sister isn't worth it? Do you know what she went through while we were off searching for Horcruxes? You didn't see her face when they threw your lifeless body on the ground in front of all of us! She _waited_ for you, Harry!" Ron exclaimed.

"Then why are _you_ here, instead of her? This isn't about us!" Harry shouted. "Ginny left _me,_ Ron! Okay? It's over! We've been growing apart for a while now. Better we end it now than after the wedding, or Godric forbid, a few kids down the road." He continued out of the parlor and made his way down to the kitchen where he'd left the bottle of firewhiskey, taking it up and refilling his glass. He went to the cupboard and took out another glass, passing it to Ron.

"I just don't get it, mate." Ron sat down and tipped the bottle over the glass that Harry had offered him.

"There's nothing to understand, Ronald. It just is." Harry leaned against the counter. "These things happen. The longer I think about it, the less bothered I am. Maybe it's for the best. I still care about Ginny, and I would never want to hurt her. Staying together when neither of us was truly happy would have done just that." He drank.

Ron drank. "So, where do you go from here?" he asked. Harry sighed.

"I honestly don't know, mate. I just feel as if nothing fits. Something is missing." He drank.

Ron drank. "Yeah, Voldemort breathing down your neck—that's what's missing."

"No. There's something else. I just can't explain it. I feel like I'm just going through the motions—just doing what everyone expects of me, but I don't know if that's what I want any more."

"You're not thinking of leaving the Auror Department?"

"That's exactly what I'm thinking, Ron. I just—" Harry sighed again. "My whole life, I've been defined by the choices that other people have made—my parents, The Ministry, Dumbledore and Riddle—even Snape. I need a life of my own." He drained his glass.

"So, what are you going to do?" Ron asked, knocking back his own glass.

"Right now, all I want is to get completely pissed." He summoned the bottle and poured again.

* * *

Harry's face felt cool and wet. There was a small gravelly voice calling his name and an insistent buzzing in his trousers.

"Master Harry…Master Harry…"

Harry opened his eyes to discover the cool, wet sensation was caused by the puddle of drool on the cold stone floor of the kitchen where he lay beneath the table. The house elf, Kreacher, whom he'd inherited along with Grimmauld Place when Sirius died, was standing over him holding a sobriety potion. After managing to get his limbs to cooperate and push himself into a sitting position, he found the buzzing in his trousers to be his mobile phone.

Harry gratefully accepted the potion as he fished his phone out of his pocket and answered it.

"Hullo?" He wiped the spittle from his cheek with the back of his hand.

"Oh, thank Merlin, Harry! I've been trying to reach you for hours!" the other voice exclaimed, laced with anxiety. Harry tossed back the potion and shook his head to clear the fuzzy feeling. He squinted at the phone's caller ID.

"Is that Dean?" he asked.

"Yeah! Yeah it is mate! I need your help!" Dean exclaimed.

"What's going on?" Harry's eyes shot open as the potion kicked in and he crawled from under the table in search of his glasses.

"It's Seamus. He's balls deep in seven shades of shit right now!" Dean's voice was frantic.

"Wait a minute, Dean. I thought you and Seamus were in America at his uncle's funeral. What happened?"

"He's in the nick! Apparently a fight broke out at the wake and he allegedly punched a policeman."

"Punched a policeman? Why didn't he just apparate out of there?" Now sober and fully awake, Harry found his glasses in the sink and put them on.

"I don't know, but that's not the worst of it! They've got his wand, Harry! They think it's some sort of burglary tool! All his family here are muggles. If anyone finds out the truth—"

"Alright, alright, calm down, Dean. Let me see what I can do. I'll call you back."

A few hours and several fire-calls later, Harry stood with Dean on the steps of the Suffolk County Sheriff's Department in Boston, Massachusetts, waiting for Seamus to be released. Dean paced restlessly, checking his watch every few minutes. Finally, Seamus emerged, looking quite a bit worse for wear, accompanied by a well-dressed woman with slightly unruly black hair.

Dean rushed to Seamus, enveloping him in an embrace, his eyes full of worry and relief.

"What about his wand?" Dean asked.

"I have it," the woman replied. "How about we go someplace more private?"

They went to Harry's hotel suite and the woman handed over Seamus' wand.

"I'm sorry, who are you, again?" asked Seamus. He was curled up on the couch beside Dean. "Are you my brief?"

"Seamus, this is Iolanthe Massey. She heads up the Investigation Department of the Boston DMLE."

"Oh." He rubbed his forehead.

"The No-Maj police believe that I am with a federal agency which outranks them. As far as they're concerned, Seamus is now in federal custody. We shift a few records around, obliviate any personnel as the need arises, and the problem is all taken care of. If the witch or wizard in question were indeed of concern, we run it up proper DMLE channels."

"So, how did this all happen and why weren't you two together?" Harry asked.

"Have ye ever _been_ to an Irish wake?" Seamus replied, now lying in Dean's lap with his eyes closed. "Merlin, I am never touching muggle liquor again!"

"I did try to warn you, love."

"I know, I know, 'cushla, but me cousins just kept shoving shots an' Arthurs in me hands. They said wine was for lightweights and homos."

"You _are_ a homo, darling," said Dean, stroking his head.

"Yeah, but _they_ don't know that, do they? Anyway, this bloke came in and just started blaggardin' Patty, callin' him a thievin' bastard and sayin' he owed him. Patrick denied knowing anything about what he was saying. He said he'd cleared the debt and told him to shove off if he wasn't paying respects. Next thing I know, fists are flyin'. I couldn't exactly apparate out of there; they'd have taken the mick out of me for doin' a runner. Nobody told me he was a cop."

"Where were you, Dean?" Harry asked.

"At our hotel." Harry gave Dean a curious look.

"Me family's Catholic, Harry. Most muggles aren't as casual about our type of relationship as wizards—especially Catholics." Seamus grimaced and Dean gave him a squeeze.

"Your cousin owns a pawn shop in South Boston, right?" Iolanthe asked.

"I think so, and he works part-time in his da's pub. Why?"

"Well, the No-Maj police have been investigating a string of burglaries in the Back Bay. At least two of the significant stolen items were turned up in his shop, and the pawn tickets matching the items didn't trace back to any real person."

"So, are you thinking that the initial argument has something to do with those items?" asked Harry.

"Well, Michael Dooley, the cop in question, has also been under investigation in relation to evidence which has come up missing in a number of cases where he was one of the investigating officers."

"So, Seamus' cousin is mixed up with this bent copper over some stolen goods and missing evidence?"

"It's possible," said Iolanthe.

"What has tha' got to do with me wand?" Seamus asked, sitting up. Patrick is a muggle. He's never seen me wand and wouldn't know anythin' about it. Me da's a muggle, and no one in his family except me is a wizard. Believe me, Da's not tellin' _anyone_ about me magic, not even when he's bolloxed. His and Mam's marriage has been on the rocks ever since I got me Hogwarts letter."

"I understand. Sadly, my friend, you've simply found yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was a high profile heist a few months back—a bank job with a take of about twenty million dollars' worth of cash and items from safety deposit boxes. The job was very clean—no fingerprints, no trace of a hacker on the combination to the vault. There wasn't even an image on surveillance video. The one significant piece of evidence that had been found was a wand."

"Blimey!" Dean exclaimed. "Well, who did the wand belong to?" he asked.

"No idea, it was unregistered. We traced it to Thiago Quintana, a wandmaker out of Arkansas, but his records are a hot mess. He's more of an artist than a businessman. All he could tell us is that it was clearly a replacement wand, and not one made for Ilvermorny—those all have serial numbers required by the school. As far as the No-Maj police are concerned, they thought maybe it was some kind of high-powered magnet or high-tech scanner of sorts that was used to bypass the security on the vault. Of course, we came in and did a little damage control, but your problem, Seamus, is that Dooley was one of the officers on the scene of the heist. Certain evidence from that heist has gone missing too, and of course, you had a wand on your person when you were arrested. If Dooley and your cousin are moving stolen goods or evidence, and Patrick shorted him on his cut of the money, Dooley's probably going to be after you as well."

"Fuck me!" Seamus exclaimed. "I didn't even want ta come ta this funeral, but I promised me Nan. Fucking Patrick! I'm gonna kick his arse when I see him!" He slumped back against Dean, closing his eyes tightly.

"First, you need to sober up, I think, love," said Dean. Seamus gave a reluctant moan and curled even closer to Dean.

"Well, thanks for everything, Iolanthe," said Harry, getting to his feet. "I owe you one."

"Yes, we really appreciate it," added Dean.

"Any time doll." Iolanthe stood, giving Harry a light peck on the cheek. "We should have dinner before you leave town."

"Hey, hang on." Seamus eyed them closely. "Harry, if I didn't know any better, I'd say the two of you were related." He took in her unruly dark hair and wire frame glasses. All she needed was a distinctive scar on her forehead and bright green eyes.

"Huh. You're right, love." Dean tilted his head and looked at them. "That's crazy, innit?"

Harry and Iolanthe looked at one another and shrugged. He smiled.

"My maiden name is Potter," said Iolanthe. Dean and Seamus' eyes grew wide and Seamus sat up once again.

"Get out! Are you serious?"

"Iolanthe's great-great…whatever…grandfather, Abraham Potter, was one of the original twelve American Aurors. He came from England generations ago," said Harry.

"You've got family!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Yeah, I've got family." Harry chuckled.


	2. In Too Deep

"Alright then, son?" Seamus' father was sitting at the bar with a newspaper when they entered the South Boston pub Seamus' uncle owned. Though it was early afternoon, there were a modest number of patrons in the establishment. Most appeared to be taking in a lunch break, as a few had plates in front of them along with their drinks.

"Oh, sure. No thanks to Patty!"

"Well, everyone has ta have a firs' time in tha nick. Makes a _man_ outta ye." His father eyed Dean derisively.

"Yeah, Da? Well, so does bein' tortured an' seein' yer mates killed while fighting a damned war at seventeen," Seamus retorted. "Where is Patty?"

"Back room, switching kegs." He nodded to a door at the end of the bar marked _employees only_ and returned to his paper.

Dean and Harry followed Seamus as he stalked through the bar and threw open the door. Patrick was inside a walk-in cooler, crouched in front of a row of kegs. He looked up when he heard the door bang against the wall.

"Yo, Shae! Listen, I'm—" Before he could finish, Seamus' fist collided with his jaw, knocking him backward. Dean placed his foot on the young man's chest while Seamus snatched his wallet from his pocket.

"Shut it, Patty! You owe me five-hundred dollars!" He opened the billfold and withdrew five large bills.

"Look, I'm sorry, Seamus!" Patrick tried to push Dean's foot away. "Can we go somewhere else and talk about this?"

They followed him to an apartment above the bar where Patrick poured a glass of whiskey and offered the bottle.

"I think not," Seamus scoffed.

"Suit yourself." Patrick sat down at a scarred table in the dining area and turned the glass between his hands. "How'd you make such a low bail?" he asked.

"I didn't _make_ bail. Me mate, Harry here, just happens to have certain high-level connections, and I paid a fine. Not that you care. In and out in a couple of hours were ye? Does Nan know?"

"What are you, stupid? Of course not!" Patrick grimaced.

"So what's the deal with this Dooley, anyway? Ye owe him money?" Seamus asked.

"Can't we talk about this in private, Shae?" Patrick pleaded.

"No, we _can't_ , Patrick! I trust Dean an' Harry a damned sight more'n I trust you right now! Spill!" Seamus glared at his cousin. Patrick sighed and rubbed his chin where Seamus had hit him.

"I don't owe Dooley any money. He owes _me._ I gave him a loan on some jewelry he had, and he defaulted. Instead of paying me, he comes back and asks me to hold a couple of paintings. Well, I don't usually take artwork. It's too difficult to move if the debt isn't paid. He says he doesn't want any money for them, but he asked me to put them in my vault for safekeeping until he can make good on the original loan. A week later, I'm raided by the cops for receiving—Dooley's jewelry. He tells me not to worry about it, he'll make it all go away, and he pays me to give the investigators fake pawn tickets with names he supplied for me."

"So, if he paid you, how does he still owe you money?" asked Harry.

"Well, last week he came in looking all anxious and saying he needed to get the paintings back. I go to pull them from the vault, only they've disappeared! There's nothing on my surveillance, and my guys Andy and Dan are clean. They said they thought the paintings were personal items because they didn't have tickets, so they left them alone. Those guys have been my buddies since Sister Mary Peter's kindergarten class. They're as straight as they come. Now, Dooley says I owe him for the paintings. I reminded him that he had defaulted on the loan I had given _him,_ and the money he'd paid me to clean those pawn tickets hadn't been enough to cover my losses."

"You don't know what happened to the paintings?" Seamus asked.

"I've turned the whole place upside down, and looked at the video a million times to see if I missed something. There's nothing!" Patrick downed his drink. "They've just disappeared into thin air, like magic!"

The trio of wizards exchanged looks.

"You wouldn't happen to have copy of the video surveillance from around the time you think the paintings went missing would you?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, I keep the tapes for when the police need to try to identify customers who might have tried to pawn stolen items. Usually, a list is sent to pawnbrokers and if we receive something on the list, we report it." Patrick went to a closet in the hall and poked around while he talked. "Dooley and I didn't do that transaction in the shop, and I never realized the jewels were on the list. Why would I bother to look? He was a cop, right?" He came back with a stack of three video tapes. "You think you might see something I missed?"

"I'm not making any promises, but you could call me a specialist in these kinds of things, so it doesn't hurt to have another pair of eyes on it." Harry took the tapes. Patrick nodded gratefully and turned back to his cousin.

"Look, I'm sorry, Seamus. I didn't mean for you to get caught up in this. I don't understand why they held you. Dooley's probably trying to get back at me about the paintings. I know he's connected with the Raffertys, and it's something to do with them. I have a feeling he's in deep and needs to get the pictures back."

"Jaysus, Patty! How could ye let yourself get mixed up with a prick like tha'? If Nan knew, it'd break her heart!" Seamus exclaimed. He pushed away from the table and went to the window, looking down at the street.

"I know! I know! Look, I'm working on it. Word is, there's a guy—he's a fixer—out of Beacon Hill. He's working an exclusive racket—art, bank jobs, a few short cons on big time marks…they say he can even completely flip a witness!"

"Ye _can't_ be serious! Patrick! You _don't mess_ with these gangs! Remember what happened to Uncle Tommy?"

"I've got to do something, don't I? If Dooley's in deep with his outfit, he'll hand me over before they can do _him_. Maybe I can find a way to make it worth this guy's while."

"Yeah? How? Do ye even know who this bloke is?"

"I don't know his name. He runs a private club called The Horned Serpent."

"What?" Seamus stared at him, agog. Dean, who had been examining photographs on a nearby credenza, suddenly spun around, knocking over a few frames with a clatter.

"I'm sorry, did you say Horned Serpent?" he asked.

"Yeah, why?" Patrick gave them a perplexed look. Dean and Harry shared a look.

"Erm, Patrick, maybe _we_ could go and check this place out." Harry suggested. "If there's any risk, you're not involved."

"I dunno, um. I couldn't put you in that kind of situation."

"Ye _really_ are an eejit, Patty. It's a likkle late ta be worryin' about me well-bein' now, innit?" Seamus rolled his eyes. "If Harry thinks it's best to check this bloke out first, then just let us take care of it. I told ye. Harry has high-level connections. An' don' worry—he won't stitch ye up—unless ye do somethin' stupid."

Patrick still looked skeptical, but after a moment, he relented.

"Fine. I don't know how I'm gonna repay you, Seamus."

"Just get your shit together, Pat. If this Dooley bloke doesn't do ye in, Nan will!"

"Okay, so, any idea how we get into this private club?" Harry asked.

"Membership is invitation only, but if word is out that there's a high-roller in town looking for exclusive entertainment, that generally opens doors," said Patrick. "Thing is, a Marriott-Courtyard budget don't exactly qualify." He shrugged at Seamus.

"So…what about an Englishman staying in the Ambassador Suite at the Four Seasons, would that do the trick?" Harry raised a brow. Now it was Patrick's turn to stare.

"The Ambassador Suite? That room costs like $2000 a night! Holy fuck, Shae? Who are these guys?" Seamus' lips curved into a smirk.

"This is Harry Potter. In certain _exclusive_ circles, he is practically a _god_." Patrick looked at Harry, who gave a self-deprecating shrug. Seamus stood and wrapped his arms around Dean. "And _this…_ is Dean—the love of me life." He gave him a squeeze.


	3. Behind the Green Door

When the butler greeted them upon returning to the hotel, Harry inquired about appropriate attire for an evening out. The butler offered to arrange a personal shopper, and Harry pulled him aside, lowering his voice.

"I was wondering, erm…if you are familiar with a private establishment by the name of The Horned Serpent?"

"I have heard of it, sir," the butler replied.

"You wouldn't know how my associates and I might obtain entry, would you?"

"I would be happy to look into it, sir. Would you like a reservation for this evening?"

"Yes, please, but—under the name of Black, Sirius Black." He discreetly pressed a large bill into the butler's hand. "Thank you."

"I will see to those requests right away, sir."

When the butler had gone, they went to the entertainment center and turned on the television, inserting one of the tapes into the VCR. They watched as Patrick and his employees entered and exited the vault several times a day, placing packets or bins of pawned items inside or taking them out. There was a system to the storage. Small items, likely jewelry, were kept in labeled brown envelopes and placed in file drawers. Musical instruments were shelved in one area, electronics in another, while guns and other weapons were stored in locked cabinets.

Near the end of the first tape, they saw Patrick place the paintings in a niche between the file cabinets, but they were more than one-fourth of the way through the third tape before Dean noticed something.

"Pause the tape, Harry. Wind it back a bit." Harry did as instructed. "Look, right there. Do you see it?" Dean pointed to the screen and moved his finger across it. Seamus and Harry leaned closer to see what he was indicating.

"Merlin! Someone's in there!" He rewound the tape again and noticed that the image abruptly blurred slightly on one side of the screen. Then the blur moved across the screen to the cabinets, where they could see the edges of the frames between them. Suddenly, the frames disappeared and a second later, the slight blur disappeared. "They used a disillusionment charm!"

Dean and Seamus sat back on the sofa, leaning into one another, and Harry sank into a club chair facing them.

"So you think the bloke who masterminded this is a wizard, yeah?" Dean asked.

"Well, I mean, it _is_ called the Horned Serpent. Kind of a dead giveaway, yeah?" Harry slumped in his chair.

"So what d'ye reckon? Should we have a plan?" asked Seamus.

"Honestly, Seamus, in my experience, plans have a way of going pear-shaped when you least expect them to." Harry got up and went to the bar where he snagged the bottle of firewhiskey he'd brought along with him, and poured a drink. "If we can get in, I'll likely be recognized right away. A heavy hitter like this bloke is bound to wonder what I'm doing there and he'll come to us."

* * *

Within an hour, the trio had been outfitted with stylish looks that said money. Harry wore a white shirt with a band collar, paired with a slim-fit navy suit. Dean chose a grey blazer with black jeans and a crisp, open-collar oxford shirt. Seamus was attired in a slim-fit, black V-neck sweater and stylish trousers.

Shortly thereafter, the butler delivered an envelope to Harry and inquired as to whether they would like to hire a car. He accepted the offer and at ten p.m. they stepped out of the hotel lobby just as the chauffeur stepped out of the limousine to open the door.

The ride was comfortable and brief. They had barely settled in good before the vehicle was coming to a stop in front of a grand townhome with a green door. Harry felt the wards the moment his foot hit the first step. He took a deep breath.

"Did you feel it?" Seamus whispered.

"I did," Harry replied.

"Me too," said Dean.

The silver door knocker was cast in the form of the gorgon, Medusa, her serpentine tresses looking ready to sink their fangs into any trespasser. Harry averted his eyes and raised his hand to lift the knocker when the door swung open. A statuesque woman with striking features gave them a seductive smile.

"Mr. Black, welcome to The Horned Serpent. May I have your calling card please?" she held out her hand, and he presented the elegant card he'd received from the butler at the hotel. "Please," she inclined her head and stepped aside to allow them entry.

Harry was immediately taken aback by the fine interior of the foyer. The black paneling and harlequin-patterned terrazzo tiled floor reminded him immediately of his own home on Grimmauld Place. He schooled his features and turned to the woman who was sliding open a set of doors to their left. She ushered them in and offered them a seat.

"Is this your first visit?" she asked.

"It is," he replied. She pulled a velvet rope beside the fireplace and a moment later, three stunningly beautiful women wearing cocktail gowns entered the room. Each held a black folio, which she opened as she bent low to present it, also baring quite a view of her décolletage.

"As you and your companions can see, we have an excellent tasting menu if you like. Please let us know if you will require a play partner. We feature well-trained submissives, and our dominants are highly skilled." She smiled.

Harry gave the woman a startled look of confusion and Dean and Seamus snickered. A bell rang.

"Adrestia will be with you shortly to give you a tour of our amenities. In the meantime, please help yourself to the complimentary drinks." She gestured to a side table with a tray of decanters featuring assorted fine liquors, an absinthe fountain, and a bottle of Dom Ruinart Blanc de Blancs chilled in a bucket of ice, before she departed.

Harry stared unseeing at the 'tasting menu', his face still a mask of nonplussed surprise. Seamus and Dean giggled louder.

"He looks like he's been imperioused," Seamus snorted.

"Poor thing! Shall we save him?" Dean snickered. He waved off the two women bending in front of them as he pulled Seamus close. "Not for us, love. We'll wait for the tour of amenities." He gave her a wink.

"Alright then, mate?" Seamus tried and failed to hide the amusement in his voice.

"I—this is—" Harry stammered.

"—A BDSM club," Dean finished for him. "Have you never attended one?"

"Well, no, I—" Harry struggled to regain his composure.

"Off you go, love," Dean said to the woman still bending in front of Harry with the open folio. "He's a virgin."

"I'm not a virgin!" Harry protested indignantly.

"Not a _virgin_ -virgin, mate—a kink-virgin—a newbie." Seamus grinned. He was leaning into Dean, whose fingers played in his hair.

"What makes you think I've never—" Harry began. Dean and Seamus could no longer hold back their laughter.

"Your _face,_ love! You look completely gobsmacked!" Dean stopped playing with Seamus' hair and grabbed a fistful, pulling his head back slightly. "I hope they have private playrooms," he said giving his partner a hungry look.

"Merlin!" Harry murmured, watching his friends. He shifted in his seat and suppressed a shudder, his groin coming to life. Startled, Harry averted his eyes and went to the drinks table. As he stood, debating whether taking a drink would be advisable, another woman entered the room. Harry raked his eyes over her.

She was about their age, though he surmised probably a bit younger. Her face still held clearly adolescent features. She had caramel-colored skin and large, soulful eyes that turned up in a decidedly feline way. Her dark hair tumbled over her back in a waterfall of curls and her full lips curled into a seductive smile. She wore a backless dress, with a plunging neckline, that hugged her curves in all the right places. The sheer lace sheath left nothing to the imagination, and she stood in a regal way that said "worship this body."

"Gentlemen, if you would follow me please, I will be happy to give you the tour." She smiled at Harry and turned to Seamus and Dean who appeared not to have noticed her arrival, engaged as they were in a rather heated make-out session. Dean had one hand on Seamus crotch while he pulled his head back with the other and was kissing and sucking on his neck. Seamus had balled his own hands into fists at his sides and moaned softly as he rocked his hips into Dean's hand. Again, Harry felt the surprising sensation of arousal.

"Oi!" The couple started and gave them a glance. "Do you mind?" He gestured to the young woman as she stood in the doorway, waiting for them. His friends pulled themselves together and the three of them followed the woman into the corridor.

"The main floor is open to all guests and provides all of the selections from the Tasting Menu."

She pointed out a large formal dining room with a sumptuous-looking buffet offering an array of gourmet items, exotic foods, and delectable desserts. Waiters moved about tables.

"The dining room is the only location where clothing is required. This way, please." Her hips swayed seductively as she glided down the hallway to the drawing room. When they entered, Seamus and Dean smiled with delight, while Harry stood staring curiously.

Around the large room, couples and groups moved about or sat together in various stages of undress, and watched as others were bound in intricate rope ties. Some were even suspended from riggings in the ceiling. Others were shackled or otherwise restrained to what looked to Harry to be torture devices of different types, or locked in cages. There were men and women being flogged, caned, and spanked. He couldn't even identify some of the objects and toys being employed to make their subjects moan and cry out. All around him, people were kissing and touching one another, seemingly without a care of what was going on a few feet or sometimes mere inches away from them. Harry looked at Dean and Seamus, who clutched one another's hands and pointed excitedly around the room like kids in a candy store. He was dumbfounded.

"Shall we continue?" the woman asked. Harry tugged on his friends, who reluctantly followed her as she climbed the sweeping staircase.

He couldn't help but notice the fine artwork that adorned the walls, and peered at some closely, amazed to discover that some were original works by the world's greatest masters. He was certain that they were in the right place and began to wonder how he might engineer a meeting with the club's owner.

"The second floor is available for guests who prefer more privacy. Our skilled dominants and submissives are available to cater to specific requests, for a nominal fee." They could hear the muted echoes of pleasure and pain, intermingled with the occasional sound flesh being struck, behind closed doors as they passed, and on to the next flight of stairs. She trailed her fingertips lightly over the banister as they mounted the stairs. "The third and fourth floors are accessible only to wand-holders."

"Wait—there's _magical_ rooms as well?" Harry asked.

"Yess!" Dean and Seamus exclaimed. He jerked his head around to look at them.

"What?" Dean gave him a haughty and defiant look. "Don't judge me."

"Ye should try it sometime." Seamus gave him a wink. "I'll bet he'd make a _smashing_ sub!" he said to Dean with a smirk. A tingle went up Harry's spine. He shrugged it off and rolled his eyes at his friends.

"Yes, our establishment caters to the desires of No-Majs as well as wizards and witches. As long as you have a wand on your person, you are able to access these floors and their amenities, which include more _enhanced_ apparatus as well as allowing the unrestricted use of magic beyond the notice of No-Majs." She began to continue, but they were stopped by a man in leather trousers, wearing a thick collar about his throat. His muscular chest was bare, showing off rings in both nipples. He whispered to the woman and she nodded, turning to them.

"Mr. Black, I've just been told that our host has invited you to his private salon downstairs."

Harry exchanged a look with Seamus and Dean.

"Alright. Lead the way."

* * *

They followed her back to the first floor and down the main hall to a narrow green door similar to the front entrance. Instead of a knocker, this door featured a bas-relief of a horned serpent, the jewel in its forehead glittering. She opened the door to reveal a steep staircase that led down to a dimly lit hallway which was upholstered in grey damask that, again, reminded him of Grimmauld Place, and beckoned them to follow. They walked a short distance down the passage at the bottom and she stopped before a pair of ornately carved doors and knocked.

"Enter!" The woman pushed open the doors and when Harry laid eyes upon his host, his mouth dropped open.

"Well, _you_ certainly don't look like Sirius Black," their host drawled in a sneering way that prickled Harry's skin. "Of course, there's at least _three_ Harry Potters already in attendance tonight, and none of _them_ look like you either."

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed, staring. " _You?_ "

"Good to see you again too, Potter," replied Draco Malfoy. He was sprawled on an ice-grey Chesterfield sofa. A man wearing only a pair of tight-fitting black shorts and a leather harness that crisscrossed his chest stood behind him, massaging his shoulders. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor. Their tour-guide moved quickly to the sofa and knelt in front of him. He flicked his wand and her clothes vanished. "Down," he said without taking his eyes off Harry. With a catlike motion, she stretched out face down on the floor at his feet. He glanced briefly at Seamus and Dean before he spoke again. "While I am thoroughly unsurprised to see Finnegan and Thomas, I never would have considered _you_ to have a stomach for kink. Then again, one who has survived a killing curse and endured a Cruciatus without so much as a whimper…"

Draco let the thought hang in the air as he raked his eyes over Harry, who suppressed a shudder. Harry examined Draco closely. He had been startled upon first entering the room, not just by the revelation that the club's owner was his childhood nemesis, but also by his physical appearance. Had he not known better, he'd have thought he was looking at Lucius. Draco's pale hair now fell over his shoulders, but while his characteristic sneer and posh drawl were ever present, his face did not hold the persistently calculating expression that marked the elder Malfoy's countenance.

Harry had not seen Draco since his trial after the war. The Malfoy family had retreated into seclusion immediately after being acquitted. Harry had been too preoccupied with living a somewhat peaceful postbellum life that included becoming an Auror and serving on a special unit tasked with rounding up escaped Death Eaters.

"I do sincerely hope that you aren't here to inform me that the Wizengamot has overturned my acquittal," said Draco. He summoned a glass filled with whiskey and took a sip.

"I wasn't even aware you were the owner of this establishment until just now. May I?" Harry gestured to one of the side chairs. Draco gave a curt nod.

"Feel free to join us, gentlemen." He offered.

"I think we'd rather partake of the services you have to offer," said Dean. I understand that private rooms are available for play?"

"Indeed." He patted his masseur's hand. "Gianni, show these gentlemen to the Green Suite. Make sure that their requests are seen to immediately."

"Yes, sir." He moved from behind the sofa and beckoned the couple to follow him.

"So," Draco turned his attention to Harry once the others had departed. He rested one arm across the back of the sofa, stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles, he rested his heel upon the back of the woman on the floor. "How did you come to discover our little den of bacchanal?"

"You're being awfully gracious," said Harry.

"I should draw the unwanted attention of MACUSA just for the sake of continuing our petty childhood squabbles after you saved my life and kept my family out of Azkaban?" Draco scoffed. "Though honestly, I believe a little extra solitary reflection in the North Sea might well have done Father some good," he muttered as an afterthought.

"No. I stand by the testimony I gave at your trials—for better or worse in Lucius' case." He gave a slight smile. Draco shrugged. "Actually, someone pointed me in your direction—or at least in the club's direction—they didn't actually know who you were. I'm looking to recover some… _lost_ artwork, and was told that you are the person to go to for inside information on such things." Harry sat back and placed his ankle on his knee. He kept his gaze on Draco's face in order to avoid looking at the girl on the floor beneath the other wizard's feet. Draco returned his gaze with an arched brow.

"I heard you were an Auror. Are you working for the International Confederation of Wizards now?"

"No, I'm not working for the ICW, and in fact, I've taken a leave of absence from the DMLE. This is a personal favor actually. A muggle pawn shop in South Boston was robbed of two paintings, but there's no physical evidence of a break-in and cctv footage doesn't show the theft taking place."

"Then how do you know the items were stolen and not simply misplaced?" Draco asked, his expression impassive.

"To the muggle eye, no one could have possibly breached the vault without setting off alarms or being captured on CCTV. _However_ , closer inspection of surveillance video does reveal that a witch or wizard using a disillusionment charm was _definitely_ inside that vault. He or she apparated into it, obtained the artwork, and apparated out, leaving the owners of the shop and the paintings none the wiser. The magic, however, disrupted the video reception just enough to make him or her discernable to one who knows what to look for."

"I see. And you think I stole them?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"Your words, not mine. I was told that you're something of a fixer for a certain type of client. I'm not looking to stitch you up, Malfoy, if that's what you're thinking. The paintings belong to someone who can do great harm to the owner of the shop. I'm only looking to recover them before that happens, if I can."

Draco was silent, and Harry looked away as the Slytherin eyed him once again. He chastised himself inwardly for allowing the other wizard to unsettle him, but there was something in Draco's gaze that felt almost predatory to Harry. What was more, the tingle that ran up his spine in response was not one of nervousness, but he couldn't put a finger on what he was feeling. Finally Draco spoke.

"So, if I help you—and I'm not saying that I can—what's in it for me?" he asked.

"What's in it for you?" Harry snorted. "I did just say that I have no plans to stitch you up, Malfoy. That should be good enough." Draco scoffed once more.

"Why don't we just say that you'll owe me…a favor?" said Draco, that predatory gleam still in his eye.

"Done," Harry agreed, realizing as he spoke that he might have done so too readily.

"Two days," said Draco.

"I don't follow."

"Two days—assuming that I know anything about this _lost_ artwork—I'll need at least two days to recover it."

"That's it?" Harry asked, incredulously.

" _Really,_ Potter, sometimes you think too much like a muggle. Unless the items are protected by magic, they should be easy enough to obtain."

Harry considered Draco's statement, in light of what they'd seen on the security footage, and knew that he had a point. He glanced briefly to the woman on the floor and knew she had to be a witch. She did, after all, tell them about the magical goings on taking place on the upper floors, and Draco seemed unconcerned about discussing magic in her presence.

"Curious, Potter?" Draco asked, drawing his attention away from her.

"Well, it is rather distracting to have a conversation while you're using a naked woman as an ottoman."

"Ah. Still ever the chivalrous hero to wizards and witches in distress, are we? I assure you that this arrangement is mutually beneficial, and the lady is quite happy to be where she is. Is that not correct, my beloved?"

"Oh yes, my love," she replied, otherwise not moving a muscle.

"I suppose that such predilections violate your moral code?" Draco sipped his whiskey.

"I'm not certain that a concept of which I have little knowledge could necessarily violate my moral code—besides, you know my history—whatever moral code I may subscribe to could be considered by some as questionable at best. What are you doing in America, Draco?" he asked, skirting further conversation. Draco snorted, lips curling into a smirk as he knew what the other wizard was attempting to do.

"I do believe that is the first time you have ever addressed me by my given name, Potter. I'm touched." He placed a hand to his chest. Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid the story isn't a remarkable one. After the trials were complete, Mother took to her bed and Lucius set to work in pursuit of his next bid to _restore_ the Malfoy name to its place in pureblood society. Apparently that included enrolling me at Durmstrang to complete my education, followed by a _respectable_ marriage to a witch with the right surname." Draco drained his glass and finally lifted his feet from the back of his submissive. Harry noticed a wedge-shaped indent in her skin from the heel of his fine shoes.

"However, I'm sure you can appreciate that such plans were no longer appealing to me. Fortunately, I came to learn that in spite of your _astounding_ breach and escape from Gringotts, the bank did not suffer any significant fiduciary damages, which meant that I was still able to obtain my birthright, affording me the leverage I needed to defy Lucius' wishes. I had initially only intended to travel abroad and spend some time in reflection. However, I didn't want to go to the continent, knowing that he might track me down at any of the family properties, so I came here—woefully unprepared, I might add. Then, I ran into a most unlikely confrère who introduced me to this beautiful creature." Draco patted the sofa cushion beside him, and finally she rose and curled up beside him, resting her head on his shoulder as he stroked her hair. "Beloved, this is the _real_ Harry Potter. He's the one I told you about."

"Wow! It's an honor to meet you in the flesh!" she exclaimed. "I'm Adrestia."

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well," said Harry. Adrestia turned to Draco.

"You're right. He does look quite tasty!" she declared, and glanced back at Harry, raking her eyes over him. Harry narrowed his eyes, unsure he'd heard her correctly. He flicked his glance over at Draco, who was no longer paying him attention, as he nipped along her neck.

"Ahem." Harry cleared his throat. Draco turned back to him as Adrestia began to kiss Draco's fingers.

"I'm sure she's happy to oblige you, Harry, if you'd like. Do you have experience with submissives?"

"No." Why did Harry feel embarrassed to admit that?

"What about Dominants?" Draco asked, arching a brow.

"You mean other than being tortured by Tom Riddle?" Harry asked. Draco looked as if he'd been slapped. Harry shrugged. "No."

"Then I can assume that you and the Weaslette have never engaged in any kink. Is that why you didn't bring her along?"

"Don't call her that, and if you must know, Ginevra and I have parted ways."

"Oh, that's too bad." The predatory gleam returned to Draco's countenance. Harry shifted, but maintained his gaze. "All the more reason to immerse oneself in new…experiences." Draco winked.

"Perhaps some other time," Harry replied. "Shall I contact you in two days' time, then?" He stood. Draco extricated himself from Adrestia's attentions and stood as well.

"No need."

"Good. I'll wait to hear from you." Harry extended his hand. Draco shook it, holding tightly when Harry attempted to pull away, and gave him a measured look.

"Once the deed is done, I shall call in my favor."

* * *

"Hello?...Yes, send them up…thank you." Harry hung up the phone and flicked his wand at the door to the suite, opening the door a bit, before he returned to the table where his breakfast had been laid. He was just tucking into a fluffy Belgian waffle when Seamus and Dean shuffled in wearing the same clothes they'd left the hotel in the night before. Harry gave them an exasperated scowl as he lifted his fork.

Seamus collapsed face down on the sofa, and Dean took a seat opposite Harry at the table.

"Best…night…ever!" Seamus mumbled into the sofa cushion. Harry couldn't help but notice the angry red mark encircling the wrist which hung down to the floor. He narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"Did you do that?" he asked.

"You heard him. He loved every minute of it. Nothing a little Essence of Dittany won't straighten out."

"Fuck! Omigod!" Seamus suddenly thrashed about wildly, swiping at some unseen attacker. "Pixies! Pixies!" he gasped, falling from the sofa into a heap on the floor, where he seemed to lose consciousness.

"Bloody hell!" Harry exclaimed. "What's going on, Dean?"

"Absinthe." Dean rolled his eyes.

"I thought Absinthe was harmless, in moderation."

"For muggles, yes—for mages, it's quite dangerous in any amount—the wormwood, you know. I gave him some Wiggenweld Potion. It seems to counteract the effects of absinthe as well as Draught of Living Death. It should kick in at any moment."

"Oh, Fucking Nemesis!" Seamus moaned, lifting his head weakly from the carpet.

"Aaannd, he's back." Dean shook his head, reached over and snagged a strawberry from the bowl beside Harry's plate. "I dunno why he insists upon drinking it." He bit into the strawberry and pulled a face of unadulterated pleasure, and took another berry. "My gods this is delicious! Taste this, my darling!"

Seamus dragged himself up to his hands and knees, and crawled over to where Dean was sitting, climbing into his lap. Harry paused in his eating to watch the exchange between his two friends, tilting his head slightly to the side. Seamus opened his mouth and Dean held up the strawberry for him to take a bite. Seamus also made a delighted face and let out a moan.

"Mmm!" He closed his eyes and Dean held the berry by its calyx, rubbing it over Seamus' lips like a balm.

"Merlin and Morganna!" Harry murmured as they began to kiss passionately, Seamus grinding his hips against Dean's. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he watched, fork poised halfway to his mouth. The unexpected stirring in his pants startled him out of his distracted staring. He shifted and cleared his throat. "Do you mind, yeah? Only, I'm trying to have a bit of breakfast."

"Jealous?" Seamus teased over his shoulder, giving Harry a wink.

"Should have brought Ginny along," said Dean.

"Malfoy said the same thing," Harry muttered, sipping his juice. That finally caught their attention.

"Did he really?" asked Dean.

"Yes, and I'll tell you the same as I told him. Ginny and I are no longer an item."

"What?"

"No!"

"Why?"

Harry huffed, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. Seamus slid into another chair beside Dean, both wizards resting their elbows on the table expectantly.

"I don't know. She said that I had changed and she didn't feel as if I was giving her the attention she needed."

"Were you?" Dean asked.

"I thought I was—no, I guess not. I just—" Harry sighed heavily and leaned forward. "Just between you and me, fellas?"

Dean and Seamus looked at one another and back to Harry. Seamus nodded and Dean made an X over his chest. Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"I—somewhere along the way, I fell out of love. Looking back on everything now, I'm not terribly certain that I ever loved Ginny. She was in love with me, definitely, but with the constant threat of war and death over my head, I think I fell into the relationship as more of a welcome distraction. Merlin, _please_ don't tell Ron this—he's barely accepted that it's over between her and me, but I think it was just physical with the two of us. Once the war was over, the desperate need for coupling eventually went with it." Harry placed his chin in his hand as he leaned on the table and absently traced the edge of his plate.

"Wow, mate. I'm really sorry it didn't work out," said Dean. "When did this happen?"

"The night before last."

"Oh, Harry!" Seamus exclaimed. "Ye came all this way in tha middle of a breakup? Merlin, I'm right scundered about it all."

"Think nothing of it, mate. I suppose I needed the distraction. To be perfectly honest, it felt I've just been swinging the lead with everything in my life of late. I left the DMLE too."

"What?"

"You're not an Auror anymore?"

"Well, officially, I'm on a leave of absence. I suppose you could call it a holiday."

"A _holiday?_ " Seamus gave Harry an incredulous look. "Mate, a _holiday_ is when ye go visitin' friends, or take off to a resort an' go sightseeing an' such. Ye don't go on _holiday_ to bail yer mates out of jail and try ta recover stolen artwork belonging to a bent copper who may or _may not_ be connected to tha mob!"

"Well, how would I know? I've never even been on holiday before." Harry sighed. "I just—I don't know how to _do_ normal. Does that make any sense? Is it just me?"

"Well, for _you_ it makes perfect sense, Harry. What's normal for the rest of us—whatever that is—is the exception for you. Even in school, daily life wasn't routine, what with you constantly stalking and fighting with Malfoy," said Dean.

"I was _not_ stalking Malfoy!" Harry protested.

"Ye were stalkin' him, mate—always watchin' him across the Great Hall."

"In Potions," added Dean.

"In the courtyards, the Quidditch pitch, the castle grounds…honestly, if I didn't know ye better, I'd think ye had a crush on 'im," said Seamus.

"Me? A crush on Draco? Bollocks! He made my life a living hell!"

"And yet, you testified for him at trial," said Dean.

"That was different. He didn't deserve to go to Azakaban," Harry argued.

"Is that so? Hm. I dunno about you, love, but it did _not_ escape my notice that Harry dear just referred to him as _Draco._ " Seamus raised a brow, nudging Deans' shoulder with his own.

"I _did_ notice that, my dear!" They looked at Harry with expectant gazes, but both failed to maintain a straight face.

"Oh, sod off!" Harry scowled. He reached for his coffee cup. Dean and Seamus each grabbed his hand.

"Aww, mate! Ye know we love ye," said Seamus.

"Yeah, otherwise we wouldn't be taking the piss." Dean patted his hand and let go. "So, anyway, tell us. Did Malfoy have any useful information?"

Harry picked up his coffee cup and took a sip before he answered. He needed to steady his nerves. Although they were teasing, Harry wondered if there wasn't an element of truth to what they had said. He'd watched Draco even when there was no real need for him to do so. He had no real explanation for that. He also couldn't explain the unsettling feeling that had come over him the night before, when he discovered that the wizard was the owner of the club. It wasn't the usual annoyance and dislike to which he was accustomed. The feeling had yet to make itself identifiable to Harry. He shook off the memories and set his cup down.

"Well, he said that _assuming_ he knew what I was talking about—"

"So he _does_ have something to do with it!" Dean exclaimed.

"Sneaky git!" said Seamus.

"Yeah, basically I think so too," said Harry. "Anyway, he said that he should be able to retrieve them in about two days, if they're not protected by magic."

"Oh, he _definitely_ had something to do with it!" Dean leaned back in his chair. "So, when are you supposed to contact him?" he asked.

"He said that he would get in touch with me," Harry replied. His mind wandered to the agreement he'd made with the Slytherin. He wondered what type of favor Draco would ask of him.

"So that's it?" asked Seamus. "You didn't have to hex him? He simply agreed to recover— _return_ the paintings?"

"Sounds dodgy to me, mate. What's in it for him?" asked Dean.

"I'm not really certain," Harry replied. His friends looked at him curiously. "When he asked, I told him I had nothing to offer, except the promise that he wouldn't go down for the theft." Harry didn't want to tell them about the favor. He knew that they'd be suspicious and think him mad for agreeing to such a thing. However, Harry knew that Draco had once gone out on a limb, and in so doing, risked his own life, to buy Harry some time at the height of the war.

"While I _really_ appreciate everythin' ye've done fer me, Harry. Do be careful." Seamus gave him a meaningful look.

"It's Malfoy, Seamus. With him, I'm always careful." He gave them a smile that looked far more confident about the situation than he actually felt.


	4. Returning the Favor

**_Returning the Favor_**

Harry reached blindly for the ringing phone, snagging the receiver and rolling onto his back as he answered it. He looked at the clock. It read two a.m.

"Hello?" he answered in a voice raspy with sleepiness. As he'd never been on a proper holiday before, Harry had spent the previous day touring Boston and the surrounding areas along with Seamus and Dean. They finished the night with a friendly dinner with Iolanthe and her family, where the American and English wizards exchanged stories of their schools and a little bit about the war—none of the Englishmen wanted to dredge up painful memories. Their friendly banter continuing late into the evening.

"Harry!"

"Seamus! Is something wrong?" Harry sat up with a start and turned on the lamp, squinting in search of his glasses on the bedside table.

"No! Not at all, mate! The paintings—they're back!"

"Really? How? When?" Harry asked, relaxing a little.

"There was a message from Patty when we got back to the hotel room. He said a courier arrived with two wrapped packages addressed to him. When he opened them, there were the paintings. Merlin, Harry, I can't thank ye enough for gettin' me toe-rag of a cousin outta this mess. I'm forever in your debt."

"You don't owe me anything Seamus. You've been a great friend. Really."

"'Cept fifth year when I was claimin' ye over You-Know-Who's return."

"Yeah, well we don't have to talk about that anymore. When does Patrick plan to inform Dooley that the paintings have been returned?"

"Said it's already done."

"Brilliant! Night Seamus." They rang off and Harry lay in bed wondering how long it would take before Draco called in his favor.

The wait was much shorter than even Harry could have expected. When he opened the door the next morning, expecting to receive his room service breakfast order, Draco swept past him and into the suite without waiting for an invitation.

"Well, I guess being the savior of the wizarding world has its advantages," he commented, looking around the suite with interest.

"Good morning to you too, Draco, what a surprise; do come in." Harry muttered sarcastically, following him into the sitting area.

"It's Draco again, is it?" he gracefully lowered himself onto the sofa, crossing his legs and sliding a thumb and index finger over the sharp crease in his slacks. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were flattering me!"

Harry stood near the door and carded a hand through his hair before lifting his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "It's early, Malfoy. I don't become charming until at least my third cup of coffee. I would, however, like to thank you for returning the missing paintings." There was a knock and Harry received his room service meal.

"I'm sure I have no idea of which you speak, but I am pleased to note that things have worked out for you," Draco replied with an arched brow.

"Breakfast?" Harry offered, indicating the spread being laid out on the table.

"I think not. I have already partaken of a petit dejeuner. I am here only to call in my favor." He stood, a slight curl to his lips.

"And what exactly would that be?" Harry hoped his unease was not apparent.

"Dinner."

"Dinner?"

"I shall see you at half seven—and Potter, do dress appropriately. If your attire the other night was anything to go by, then I know you have it in you." He gave Harry an appraising look and sauntered out of the room, lightly touching his arm as he passed.

Harry could still feel Draco's touch, even after he'd been gone for some time. He was stunned that Draco's 'favor' was a simple dinner. He'd expected something more sinister, and the thought crossed his mind that there was still a very large window of opportunity for Draco to place him in a precarious situation. Nonetheless, he was intrigued and, he had to admit, anxious to see what the evening would bring. He knew that the Slytherin no doubt had reservations at one of the city's finest restaurants, and showing up in the same attire that he'd worn to The Horned Serpent would be unacceptable—not because of its styling—because Draco would probably think him lazy, or too uncultured to have a proper wardrobe. He tucked into his breakfast. As he quickly showered and dressed for the day, Harry shook off the idea that he actually considered what Draco thought. He recalled Dean and Seamus' teasing about him stalking the Slytherin in school.

Harry spent the morning shopping, and was delighted that it didn't take long to find a look that suited him and which he believed would impress Draco. Again, he considered the idea that he cared about the other wizard's opinion of him, and scowled momentarily as he paid for his selections and requested that they be delivered to his suite at the hotel. Harry dismissed the thought as his ongoing competitiveness with the Slytherin and hailed a taxi. He joined Dean and Seamus for lunch. The couple planned to depart that evening and take a portkey to San Francisco for a short trip to shake off the drama of their Boston adventure before returning to London.

Harry bade his friends farewell, accepting effusive thanks again from Seamus, and promised that they would all get together soon when they were all back in London. He returned to the hotel to find his purchases had been delivered and put away by the butler. It was two o'clock. Left with nothing to do for a few hours and still feeling a bit weary from the previous two late evenings, Harry requested a wake-up call and stretched out across the king-sized bed for a nap.

 _"_ _I'm sure she's happy to oblige you, Harry, if you'd like. Do you have experience with submissives?"_

 _"_ _No." Why did Harry feel embarrassed to admit that?_

 _"_ _What about Dominants?" Draco asked, arching a brow._

 _"_ _You mean other than being tortured by Tom Riddle?" Harry asked. Draco looked as if he'd been slapped. Harry shrugged. "No."_

 _"_ _Oh, that's too bad." The predatory gleam returned to Draco's countenance. Harry shifted, but maintained his gaze. "All the more reason to immerse oneself in new…experiences." Draco winked. He whispered something to Adrestia, and she moved towards Harry._

 _Harry shifted in his seat, unsure of what to expect. He could feel Draco's eyes on him as she approached and lightly trailed her fingertips up his arm. Harry was unprepared for her to continue walking past and out of the room, leaving the two wizards alone. He watched over his shoulder as she backed from the room, closing the door behind her. Harry was curious. She was a witch, but where was her wand?_

 _"_ _Are you sure you don't want me to call her back? She quite fancies you, but of course, don't most witches?" Draco was perched on the edge of the sofa, leaning forward as he spoke._

 _"_ _I don't pay much attention to most witches," said Harry. He was horrified at the implication of his statement, but it was too late to take it back. Draco was smiling at him._

 _"_ _Too chivalrous to take full advantage of the perks that go along with hero status?" he asked. "Or is there something else that interests you? Something more that you desire?"_

 _"_ _I couldn't say," he replied. "Why are you so interested in what I want?"_

 _"_ _That's what we do here at the Horned Serpent. We cater to those desires that others insist remain hidden." His voice was soft and husky as he spoke. "Whatever you wish, we make it our mission to provide." Harry raked his eyes over Draco, seeing him in a very different light. He bit his lip._

 _"_ _I know what you really want, Potter." Draco slid from the sofa. "I wouldn't do this for just anybody you know."_

Harry woke with a start, heart pounding. Had he actually _dreamed_ of Draco? Even in their youth, Harry was hard pressed to think of an instance when the Slytherin had ever figured in his dreams. Since Voldemort's defeat, Draco had occasionally appeared as some memory of the skirmish at Malfoy Manor, or the confrontation in the Room of Requirement slipped into his unconscious mind, but never a dream specifically of the sneering blond himself. Furthermore, Harry's next immediate discovery was that the dream had stirred to life parts of him that he preferred were left undisturbed by thoughts of his rival.

The phone rang with his wake up call a moment later, and Harry pushed himself up. He dragged into the shower, still pondering these strange new sensations. As the shower spray rained over him, Harry decided there couldn't have been much to it. He'd noticed an odd arousal at seeing Dean and Seamus brazenly pawing one another as well. He put it off to the fact that it had been quite some time since he'd had a good shag—things had well tapered off with Ginny long before the final breakup. He braced himself against the wall with one hand and as he used the other to make work of the tension below his waist, Harry was unable to banish thoughts of Draco staring him down. Thoughts of his familiar smirk as their gazes met, coupled with the sensation of his hand upon his arm were just enough to push him over the edge and Harry groaned with a shudder. He quickly washed up and exited the shower, toweling his hair as he moved to the bedroom to lay out his clothes.

At precisely half-past seven, Harry heard a perfunctory rapping on the door. He flicked his wand and went back to adjusting his tie in the mirror. He smoothed it out and buttoned his waistcoat. Draco appeared behind him, his general sneer appearing more of an approving smirk.

"Nice tie, Potter. Who knew green would suit you?" He leaned close, still examining Harry in reflection. "A _tulip_ knot! I'm impressed."

Harry could feel Draco's body heat, and the heady scent of sandalwood filled his nostrils. He swallowed and made a show of checking his cufflinks—simple 8mm pearls on elfin-wrought gold posts. He'd discovered them in his vault during the extensive inventory done by the goblins when the Potter and Black vaults were merged following the war. There had been quite a massive collection of jewels and gemstones including a stunning emerald, the likes of which Harry had never before seen. A few weeks later, he found a picture among Sirius' belongings from his parents' wedding. James Potter was wearing the same cufflinks. Since then, Harry had chosen them whenever he dressed for an occasion that he deemed important.

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." Harry moved, intending to step away from the mirror, but Draco did not give him space. The other wizard summoned the chocolate brown mini multi-check sport coat, which matched the waistcoat Harry wore with flat-front wool mohair blend dress trousers. Draco held the jacket open at Harry's waist, and after a beat, the dark-haired wizard realized that the blond was waiting for him to place his hands into the sleeves. He reached back and Draco slid it up and over his shoulders. Harry adjusted the sport coat with a tug and Draco smoothed over the shoulders before sliding the back of his hand down his spine.

Startled, Harry suppressed his shudder of surprise by adjusting his shirt sleeves and waistcoat. Finally, Draco stepped back, allowing Harry to turn around. Harry took in Draco's customary refined appearance. He wore a single-button suit in charcoal grey fresco fabric, with notched lapels, side vents and slanted pockets. The cut screamed bespoke tailoring, and hung beautifully on his slim frame. His crisp, white double-cuff shirt contrasted sharply with the black ascot, featuring subtle green dots, which was expertly tucked into his open collar. His pale hair was pulled into a slick ponytail, gathered at the nape of his neck and held in place with a simple band of black leather. Harry thought the short time that had intervened since he'd last seen him in England certainly had done Draco no physical injustice.

"So, do I meet with your approval, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Well, as your hair has always been hopeless, I suppose it shall have to do." Draco shrugged. "The car is waiting."

Despite the rushed nature of his trip, Harry had had the presence of mind to bring along business robes in anticipation of a possible trip to MACUSA or DMLE offices, and reached for them as he slid his room key into his pocket.

"That won't be necessary. We aren't going to a wizarding establishment."

"Alright then." Harry drew his hand back. He slipped his wand into the breast pocket of his jacket, smoothing it to be sure there was no bulge. "Shall we?"

The restaurant was situated in a turn-of-the-century mansion not far from The Horned Serpent. They sat in a private dining room that overlooked the Boston Public Garden. Harry found himself grateful that Hermione insisted he learn proper dinner etiquette. It had served him well as he attended numerous banquets in his honor following the war, but he was most pleased not to embarrass himself in front of the paragon of pureblood sophistication. Draco's impressed smirk did not go unnoticed as Harry chose the appropriate silverware for each course of the meal. Harry did, however, allow his dinner companion to choose the wine. As he rarely drank, this was an area in which he occasionally felt a bit out of his depth.

"I must admit, Draco, this was certainly not what I was expecting when you said I would owe you a favor," said Harry, sinking a spoon into his lobster bisque.

"Oh? Were you hoping for something more sinister?" Draco smirked and took a bite of his salad.

"That has rather been our history."

"I'm almost insulted, Potter." He reached for his wine glass. Draco had chosen a cabernet sauvignon which paired well with both of their entrée choices. "Almost. If you prefer, I can arrange to accommodate your expectation." He leveled a measured look at Harry over his glass as he sipped.

Harry inwardly chastised himself again for being the first to look away. He studied his wine glass to avoid the shiver that prickled his skin when those icy grey eyes met his own green ones. Harry took a sip of the wine, willing his senses to relax.

"This cabernet is superb! Is it a Tuscan?" He picked up the bottle and examined the label. "Fuoco Serpentino, hm." He set the bottle down. The waiter removed their dishes and served a palate cleanser.

"The cabernet sauvignon is one of our more popular vintages." Draco lifted the sorbet spoon to his lips.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry tasted his own palate cleanser.

"Fuoco Serpentino is the name of our vineyard in Tuscany—well, one could say that it is mine now, as I received it with my birthright. It is a lovely estate. We didn't visit often. Mother and Lucius preferred to vacation in the city—Paris, Tokyo, Nice—although Mother adores the house in Aragon. That may well have worked in my favor. Lucius only cared about the bottom line and appears totally unaware that the bulk of our export trade has been done with muggles who can't seem to get enough of it. Ironic, no?"

Harry chuckled as the entrées were served. "I'm surprised at how well you seem to have adapted to life among muggles. I never thought I would see the day when a Malfoy would ever consort with the common man." Harry took a bite of his entrée.

"Well, don't alert the press just yet. I'm not a total convert. However, I have come to appreciate the advantages—particularly economic ones—of expanding one's knowledge of the world. What could it hurt after all? I've already experienced the extreme disadvantages of refusing to learn about the outside world." A shadow crossed Draco's face as he spoke. This time, it was he who looked away from Harry's intent gaze.

"What matters is that you _learned_ , Draco. What you do with tomorrow is more important than what happened yesterday."

"You sound like Dumbledore," Draco scoffed.

"Perhaps. Doesn't make what I said any less true." Harry raised a brow and continued to eat. Draco rolled his eyes.

They enjoyed their entrées in companionable silence. After a while, Harry spoke up. "So, be honest, Draco. Why did you invite me to dinner?" Draco lifted his napkin and elegantly dabbed at his mouth. Harry followed the movement, his gaze lingering on the perfect, almost heart-shaped lips. He blinked, finally tearing his eyes away when the other wizard began to speak.

"I wanted to see if you would accept the offer," he replied.

"That's it?" Harry gave him a skeptical look. Draco gave him a noncommittal shrug.

"I like a challenge."

"A challenge? Asking me to dinner is a challenge? Methinks you're losing your touch. What would your fellow Slytherins say?" Harry snorted.

"I believe they would say that the night is still young," Draco replied, gesturing to indicate that he would like the cheque. He held Harry's gaze, raising a brow as he retrieved three large bills from his wallet and tucked them into the leather folio, returning it to the waiter. "Keep the change."

The driver stopped outside of a stately town home in the Back Bay, and opened the door. Draco stepped out and looked back at Harry, gesturing to the door.

"I thought we were going to The Horned Serpent," Harry said.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Draco looked at him impatiently. "I don't live _there._ "

"Oh." Harry stepped out of the car and followed him to the front steps, suppressing a chill as they passed through the wards. "Merlin! What have you got in your wards?"

Draco let out a chuckle and flicked his wand. The elegant arched door swung open and Harry followed him inside. In comparison to the interior of the club, the house was light and airy, with pale walls accented by white wainscot paneling and golden-hued hardwood floors. The grand staircase rose from the foyer to a skylight four stories up. The place was decorated in a minimalist fashion with clean lines and nothing superfluous to take up space.

"Drink?" Draco offered, sauntering down the hall and disappearing through an arched doorway. Harry followed and stepped into a well-appointed lounge which showcased a billiard table in the center of the room. The custom table featured a black felt surface. Instead of red and yellow, the rack contained green and matte silver balls nestled around the black 8-ball. At the far end, in front of a modern glass fireplace, sat a tasteful art deco chess table with matching side chairs, the chess pieces restlessly waiting for players to take a seat. The white queen gave Harry an impatient look as he approached.

"Bourbon, if you have it." Harry examined the fireplace. "I like this sleek, modern design," he said. "It's different."

"The damned thing is bloody useless." Draco approached, holding two double old-fashioned tumblers. He passed one to Harry, who lifted it to his lips with a nod. "The only thing it can do is warm the room."

Harry snorted, nearly choking on his drink. "It's a gas fireplace, Draco. Have you considered charming it to at least take fire calls? Seamus and Dean did that. Their loft doesn't have a traditional fireplace. It's more like a modern stove."

"Hm. Hadn't thought of that." Draco shrugged. "Doesn't matter. There's a proper fireplace in the parlour, as well as one in the library." He sauntered over to the billiard table and perched on the rail, rolling the cue ball around under his hand. "So, why now, Potter?" he asked.

"Why what?" Harry asked, turning away from the fireplace.

"It's Draco now, instead of Malfoy. Why?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. He finished his drink and set the glass down on the side table at one end of the sofa. "I hadn't thought of it. Just did." He went to the wall where a rack held highly polished billiard cues. Each stick was fashioned from hand-turned ebony with diamond shaped malachite inlays decorating the handles. He picked up a cue. "Are we playing?" he asked.

"I hope you're better at billiards than you are at chess, Potter." Draco drained his own glass, sliding off the rail and taking a cue from the wall. Harry placed a few bills on the long rail.

"Only one way to find out," he raised a brow and adjusted the rack of balls.

"Keep your money, Potter."

"Afraid you'll lose?" Harry smirked, removing his jacket. Draco scoffed.

"Hardly. In the interest of keeping things stimulating, how about a challenge?" Draco removed his own jacket and ascot.

"I'm listening."

"A question for each ball pocketed." Draco raised a brow.

"No questions about the war." Harry leveled a stern look at him.

"No questions about the war." Draco nodded. "And you must answer each question truthfully."

"How will we know if the other is being honest?" Harry asked, skeptically.

"You mean you don't _trust_ me?" Draco gave a look of mock affront.

"Of course I don't." Harry grinned.

"Tough. You'll be the one answering all of the questions anyway, seeing as you'll not pocket a single ball." Draco's lips curled into his familiar sneer. Harry rose to the bait.

"We'll see about that. Break."

"You're the guest." Draco set the cue ball in position. "I insist."

Harry took up position behind the cue ball and leaned over the table. He was acutely aware of Draco standing behind him watching, and he took a breath to steady himself as he slid the cue back over the top of his thumb. He exhaled slowly and shifted slightly, eye on the white ball in front of him. He struck the cue ball and sent it crashing into the apex ball with a resounding clack that ricocheted through the others. They watched the balls disperse until a green ball sank into a side pocket with a thump as the leather pocket took the weight of it, reverberating back into the wood from which it hung.

"I suppose that gives me the first question," Harry smirked.

"Fine." Draco scowled.

"How did you know I was in your club?" Harry asked.

"Who else would use the alias Sirius Black?" Draco circled the table looking for a good vantage point to take his shot. "Requests for calling cards always go through me and my partner."

"Partner? Who?" Harry asked.

"Ah, ah. You've asked your question already." Draco leaned over the table to line up his shot. Harry was taken by how the Slytherin even made taking up a shooting stance look absolutely elegant. He took his shot. _Clack, thump, thump._ Draco pocketed two silver balls. He gave Harry a wicked smile.

"Alright then," Harry leaned on his cue stick.

"Did you want to have it on with my Adrestia last night? She quite fancies you, but then of course most witches do."

"I wouldn't know. I don't pay much attention to most witches." Harry shrugged. Immediately, he was horrified at his statement as the memory of his dream came back to him. He fixed his eyes on the table as he began to move around it in search of a good shot.

"Well, well!" Draco smirked. "Next question…let's see…what's the kinkiest thing you and the Weaslette have ever done?"

"Don't call her Weaslette," said Harry, his gaze cool.

"Fine, what's the kinkiest thing you and _Ginevra_ have ever done?" Draco perched on the edge of a barstool, lacing his fingers around the tip of his cue. He smiled, noticing Harry's ears go red as he let out a wry chuckle.

"I had gone to watch her play in the House Cup her last year. After the match, we had it off on the middle of the pitch."

Draco gave him an admiring grin. "And no one saw?"

"I believe that counts as a _third_ question," Harry pointed out. Draco scowled. "But, I'll just say that having an invisibility cloak is _terribly_ useful," He winked.

"My! My! Perhaps there's hope for you after all. Well, take your shot."

 _Clack! Thump! Thump!_

"Who's your partner?"

"Unfortunately, I cannot share that information."

"I knew you couldn't be trusted to tell the truth!"

"No, I _cannot_ share that information. Confidentiality spell in our agreement. Neither of us may reveal the other. That person will have to reveal oneself personally."

"I see," Harry replied, a bit disappointed. "Fine. I guess I have no choice but to accept your answer," he conceded. "Okay. Name one person, if anyone, outside of Slytherin House you have ever shagged."

"Merlin, you cut right to the adagio, don't you, Potter?" Draco smiled impishly. "I solemnly swear that what I am about to reveal is the unadulterated truth."

"Sweet Godric! It must have been a Gryffindor! Katie Bell? Parvati Patil?" Harry began to imagine any number of girls who might have been daring enough to shag Draco.

"Actually, no. It was Luna. Fifth year."

Harry's brows disappeared beneath the fringe of hair that covered his forehead.

"She might be mad as a bag of bowtruckles, but she earns the house cup for her oral presentation," Draco winked.

"Oral presentation!" Harry chortled. Draco moved to the table.

 _Clack! Thump! Thump! Thump!_

"Did you ever have it on with Granger?"

"They call me the Boy Who _Lived,_ not the Boy Who Lived-but-was-subsequently-murdered-for-knocking-off-his-best-mate's-girl."

"Damn! I totally wasted that question."

"Ya think? Proceed."

"Hmm…describe your first kiss."

Harry groaned. "Must I, really?"

"Oh, come on, Potter. It couldn't have been _that_ bad. Weas—Ginny was mad for you once." Draco teased.

"Except that my first kiss wasn't with Ginny. It was just—" Harry sighed. "Cho was still mourning Cedric. We were in the Room of Requirement just before Christmas. The DA had just finished practicing defensive spells, and she said she wondered if Cedric might have survived if he'd known the spells. Then she started crying. I was trying to make her feel better and we talked, then we got closer, and before we knew it we were kissing. She was still crying though."

Neither of them spoke or moved for a minute.

"Forgive me, Harry. We weren't meant to bring up the war." Draco went to the bar and poured them each another drink.

"Well, you had no idea. I guess it's close to impossible to avoid it, especially between the two of us." Harry took a long drink and set his glass down firmly. He grabbed the cue chalk. "Go ahead. You've got one more question."

"Name one Slytherin you have ever dreamed of shagging."

Harry was about to say no one, when the unexpected image of Draco across the table dabbing his lips flashed through his mind. Suddenly, unbidden images from years past flooded his consciousness. He fumbled the cue chalk and it bounced across the floor.

"Me? The Chosen One? Shag a _Slytherin?_ " Harry played at mock affront to cover his unease. He turned to the table, hoping Draco hadn't seen the flush that crept up his neck. "Now, you're just taking the piss." He laughed as he moved to take his next shot.

 _Clack!_ He didn't sink any balls. Draco took his shot.

 _Clack!_ He missed.

Harry examined the balls on the table and grabbed a swan rest from the rack. Draco stood just behind him, watching intently as he carefully placed it on the felt and lined up his shot.

 _Clack! Thump!_

Harry took his time returning the rest to the rack. When he faced Draco again, he was leaning against the long rail, legs crossed at the ankle, an expectant expression on his face.

"Well?" he asked.

Harry bit his lip. His breath hitched for a moment as he approached the table. He stood at the head rail, examining the remaining balls on the table.

"What's it like?"

"I beg your pardon?" Draco looked at him curiously.

"What's it like? You know."

"BDSM, you mean?" Draco pushed away from the table. Harry nodded. "That's a very broad spectrum, Potter. You want to know what being a Dominant is like, or being a submissive?"

"Both—either. I don't know. I'm just—I'm curious."

"Are you sure?" Draco looked at him skeptically. His chest felt tight. He couldn't believe Harry was asking him this.

"You've asked me three questions, Malfoy. It's not your turn. Yes, I'm sure. I asked, didn't I?"

"Okay," Draco replied, somewhat reluctantly. "Let me have your cue." He held out his hand, and Harry passed him the cue stick. He took both and leaned them against the bar, using the action to take a few slow, deep breaths. It was imperative that he stay in control of the situation. Draco hadn't expected quite this turn of events. He turned to Harry, and was about to ask again if he was certain, but the expression on the dark-haired wizard's face told him that he would be hexed if he did.

"Turn around and place your hands on the rail."

Harry gave Draco a quizzical look, but the blond's expression was impassive. He turned away from him and placed his palms flat on the rail. Draco's steps were nearly silent as he crossed the floor, and Harry wasn't aware that he had approached, until the unmistakable scent of sandalwood wafted under his nose and he felt the heat of the other radiating against his back.

"First…" Draco said softly at his ear, a hand sliding up the nape of Harry's neck and into his hair. Pale fingers closed around a fistful of black and Harry felt his head tugged back. "Do _exactly_ as you are told. If I say you do not speak—do not utter a sound. If I say you do not move—don't even flinch. If you become uncomfortable at any time and wish to stop, your safe word is 'scarlet'. Say 'yes,' if you understand."

"Y-yes," Harry stuttered.

"Well done." Draco released his hair, trailing his fingertips over the back of his neck. Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Draco gently removed Harry's glasses and placed them on the soft felt tabletop. Harry blinked a few times at the loss of clear vision. His heart thudded madly in his chest as his groin began to shudder to life.

"You intrigue me, Potter." Draco stepped back and Harry lamented the loss of his body heat. He turned to look over his shoulder. "Eyes forward!" Draco snapped. Harry pressed his lips together with exasperation as he turned back to face the table. " _Accio_ scarf."

Draco's ascot flew to his hand with a swish, and he gathered it into soft folds as he continued to speak.

" _I think_ …" He approached Harry again and slid the fine silk over his eyes, shutting out all light as he tied it tightly. Harry began to breathe heavily. "You weren't entirely honest…" Draco reached around and slowly began to unbutton Harry's waistcoat. He stood right against the Gryffindor as he spoke into his ear, voice low and amatory. "…when you answered my last question."

Harry curled his fingers on the rail. He felt as if the room was shifting around him. How could this possibly be making him so aroused?

"D'you wanna know what _I think?_ " Draco was speaking again. He pulled deliberately at Harry's tie, unraveling the elaborate knot. " _I think…_ that you _have_ dreamt of shagging a Slytherin…" With agonizing slowness, Draco slid the tie away. He pressed closer to Harry, resting his chin on the Gryffindor's shoulder as he reached around once more and began to unbutton his shirt. " _I think_ …you stalked him—yes, _him_ —for _six years._ "

Harry shuddered. He could feel the slight roughness of fresh stubble against his cheek as Draco spoke. His erection pulsed inside his trousers. He opened his mouth to deny the Slytherin's assertion when he felt a slap against his ass.

" _Surely_ , you weren't about to speak!" Draco hissed. Harry pursed his lips. " _I think_ you were _torn…_ " he whispered again, his lips brushing Harry's ear, breath hot and enticing. "…between despising him…" Draco rocked his hips against Harry's ass.

Harry thought he'd stopped breathing in that instant. He struggled not to push back against the other wizard.

"…and _wanting_ to feel his _hot_ _prick_ in every possible way…" Draco slid his hand lower until he was palming Harry's fully hard erection straining for freedom inside his trousers. "…and wanting him to take your… _unbelievable_ cock for his own…"

Harry stifled a moan, a whimper escaping instead. Draco chuckled softly, his breath ghosting over Harry's ear, and causing the aborted moan to escape defiantly. Draco flicked his wand and Harry no longer wore his shirt and waistcoat. He let out a gasp as the slight coolness of the air enveloped his torso.

" _I think…_ " Draco nipped along his shoulder, rutting against him as he continued to rub him off through his trousers. Harry could no longer resist. He pushed back desperately against Draco, feeling the Slytherin's own growing erection firm up against his ass, and sighed. "…that Slytherin you so _desperately_ want…" Draco raked both hands over Harry's chest, eliciting a violent hiss. "…goes by the name of the dragon…" He fisted Harry's hair once again, jerking his head back fiercely this time. " _Draco!_ " He drew out his name as he whispered it, removing Harry's blindfold. Draco carefully placed Harry's glasses back on his nose. Harry blinked again, several times, adjusting to light and sight. He pouted as Draco moved away from him, and rocked his hips backwards.

"Turn around, Potter."

Harry turned to discover Draco leaned against the barstool, one foot propped on the rung, and his hard cock in hand. He stroked himself slowly, gazing at Harry beneath half-closed eyelids. Harry bit his lip.

"Does it turn you on, Potter?" Draco asked.

"Yes!" he gasped. His hand went to his own crotch.

"Show me! Show me how much you want it, Potter!" Draco commanded. He licked his lips as he watched Harry struggle with the idea for just a moment.

Harry pushed away from the table, bending his knees.

"No!" Draco exclaimed. "You don't get to kneel for me, Potter! Fuck, man!" He couldn't believe what Harry was about to do. As amazed and turned on as he was himself from the experience, he wasn't ready to look down at the Gryffindor in such a position. "I want to watch you get off while you think of me, look at me, want me. Show me!"

Harry hastily freed his cock from his trousers, sighing with relief as he took himself in hand, leaning against the billiard table, and began to stroke himself.

"Show me how you wanked while you lay thinking of me, hidden behind your bed curtains in the Gryffindor dormitory."

Harry began to stroke faster, his free hand gripping the edge of the rail so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Is it everything you imagined it would be?" Draco teased in a breathy voice, still stroking himself slowly. "The reality is soo much better than the fantasy, isn't it?"

Harry muttered a lubrication charm and his hand slid hot and slick over his cock. He grunted with the effort to hold off his climax.

"Did you ever wonder if I was thinking of you, Potter?" Draco's voice was husky and he continued to stare at Harry, as he rocked his hips into his hand.

"Oh!" Harry cried. How could Draco hold out? Harry was dying. He had to give in.

"Did you want to touch me? Did you imagine me touching you like this, Potter?" Draco cast a nonverbal lubrication spell and began to stroke himself earnestly now. He'd learned a while ago how to maintain his arousal, but Harry was making him lose his resolve. He knew the dark-haired wizard didn't want to be the first to cum. He bit his lip as he watched Harry's hand desperately gripping his own rigid dick.

"Fuck! Draco!" Harry gasped. He couldn't take it any longer. His cock pulsed in his hand, and he felt lightheaded.

"Did you imagine me on my knees for you?" Draco's voice came out choked. He was almost there.

Harry let out a long, guttural moan as he climaxed, spilling over his fingers. His knees went slack, and he clutched the edge of the billiard table to keep from slumping to the floor. He turned and leaned heavily over the rail, panting for breath as he listened to Draco orgasm a few seconds later.

"Fuck! Oh, fuck! Well done, Potter!"

"That wasn't quite what I'd imagined," Harry said, later. They had cleaned themselves up and were in the kitchen. Harry perched on a stool at the island, tracing a finger over the veins in the marble countertop. Draco poured coffee from a French press into two cups.

"You thought I would cast an _Incarcerous_ spell _,_ forcing you to your knees, and beat you into submission?" Draco smirked. Harry had put his shirt back on, but left it unbuttoned, revealing a torso well-toned from chasing down criminals and playing Ministry League Quidditch. Draco forced himself to look at the other's face as he spoke. "While a few years back, such a thing would certainly have been my first impulse—and seeing you bound and begging would definitely be a treat—you're new to this, so I thought it best to choose a bit more vanilla approach. What we do is about pleasure, Harry. At times, it is by pain that one arrives at pleasure. Sometimes, it is the mere idea of control—or lack thereof—which is a _major_ turn on."

"Clearly," Harry replied, sipping his coffee as he turned over their encounter in his mind. "Wait—you thought of having me before?"

Draco set his cup down without taking his eyes off of Harry. He was about to speak when they heard a noise. Harry was on his feet and spun around, wand out, only to discover a white ball of fur scampering into the room. He lowered his wand in amused shock as Draco laughed.

"A _ferret?_ " Harry exclaimed incredulously. " _You_ own a ferret?"

Draco scooped up the animal and it climbed up to perch on his shoulder. It was then that Harry noticed that the ferret was not entirely white, but had an almost perfectly round black spot over its left eye. Draco flicked his wand to the cabinets and a silver dish filled with what looked like cat food soared over to the counter.

"He was given to me as a gift—sort of a joke—but I like the little bugger." He grabbed a small handful of the kibble and held it up for the ferret to eat. "Harry, meet Moody."

"Moody!" Harry laughed, slapping the countertop. "Oh, that's _rich!_ " he hooted. "Pleased to meet you, Mad Eye!" The ferret looked up at Harry curiously and bobbed his head before returning its attention to Draco's now empty hand.

"Alright then, off you go!" he set the food dish on the floor in the corner and lifted the animal from his shoulder. Harry continued to snicker as he watched.

"I see Moody's just as spoiled as big brother," he grinned, eyeing the ornately engraved porringer.

"Perhaps a black-haired ferret with a unique marking on his forehead would make a nice friend." Draco, gave him a wicked sneer, his fingers dancing over the hawthorn wand lying on the counter.

"I am sure that you have been informed," Harry did his best imitation of Minerva McGonagall's brogue. "We do not use _transfiguration_ as a means of punishment!"

Draco tried his best to scowl, but the falsetto inflection of Harry's voice and his infectious grin had Draco laughing along with him. Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed two a.m. Harry sobered a bit.

"I should probably get going," he said. Draco's face fell and Harry looked away. Was the Slytherin really saddened at the thought? It was just a one-off wasn't it? He'd only been curious about this scene in which Draco was involved, and having had his hidden desires laid bare was rather overwhelming for Harry. He needed time to think about that. On the other hand, now that he'd had the experience, Harry had more questions. He just didn't know how to ask them without embarrassing himself.

"Plans with Finnegan and Thomas today?" Draco asked as they headed back to the lounge where Harry had left his jacket and waistcoat.

"No, they left earlier today, erm—yesterday."

"Erm, when do you plan to return home—to England, I mean?" Draco asked. He leaned casually on the long rail of the billiard table, watching as Harry buttoned his shirt and pulled up his suspenders. Harry shrugged.

"I suppose I don't have any definite plans. I'm not expected at work, and for the first time in months, I don't even have any public appearances scheduled, thankfully." He chuckled lightly. "Seamus said I needed a proper holiday, and investigating lost artwork didn't qualify."

"You've _never_ been on holiday?" Draco looked aghast.

"When would I have ever had the opportunity?" Harry replied. "The Dursleys never took me anywhere when I wasn't at school or fighting for my life, and I've spent the last year-and-a-half as poster boy for the Ministry of Magic when I wasn't working." He summoned his waistcoat and shrugged it on, looking around for his tie. Draco held it up, and Harry took it with a small, grateful smile. He draped it over his neck. "I erm—thank you for dinner, Draco."

"Perhaps we might do this again someday," said Draco, his smile slightly wistful.

"I might like that. Good night." Harry disapparated.

Harry sighed as he landed in the middle of the suite. He'd just had a date with Draco Malfoy. Was it a date? Draco had definitely asked him out, but afterwards… Was that only to see how far he could push Harry? Had that been his intent all along? No. He _had_ said he'd like to get together again. But then again…

" _I wanted to see if you would accept the offer_ … _I like a challenge… Show me how much you want it, Potter!_ "

Shit! Malfoy had just gotten him to admit that he'd thought of him, that he'd wanted the Slytherin. Draco Malfoy had watched as he made the five fingered widow.

 _"_ _I want to watch you get off while you think of me, look at me, want me. Show me!"_

That was the favor! Draco Malfoy won the pleasure of turning out The Chosen One, and what was to stop him from telling the world?

Draco unbuttoned his shirt as he entered the darkened bedroom. He sighed and flicked his wand at a large cabinet that faced the king-sized bed. A lock clicked and the doors swung open.

"Come out," he said. Adrestia awkwardly crawled toward him, hands bound behind her. When she drew within his reach, he hooked a finger under her collar and tugged until she stood. "Are you alright?" he asked. She nodded, unable to speak due to the large ball-gag pressing her tongue down. He ran a fingertip through the drool that had dripped down her chest between her ample tits, and smeared it around one of her nipples, giving it a pinch. She moaned, leaning towards him.

 _If you wanted to fuck him, why didn't you?_

"I hate when you do that," he complained, giving her ass a slap. "I gag you for a fucking reason.

 _Then don't have conversations with me while you've got me gagged._

Draco grabbed her by the throat and squeezed it firmly. She wriggled, but he slid his hand up from her ass, holding her firmly around the waist. "I wasn't. There's no need to be cheeky, my love. Whoever thought a legilimens would make a good sub? Perhaps a night in the pit would improve your behavior," he gave her a malevolent glare. Her eyes grew wide.

 _I'm sorry, Sir!_

"That's better." Draco removed her gag and pressed his lips to hers.

"Why don't you go to him? He might be having regrets right now. He's probably afraid that you used him to embarrass him. If you want him to accept your sincerity, you're going to have to fix that," she said. Draco sighed.

"I had planned to spend the rest of the night rogering you senseless." He palmed her breasts as he kissed over her shoulder.

"Your head won't be in it, because you'll be thinking of him. Besides, think how wet and tense-tight I'll be, lying here, waiting for you to return. Wondering if you'll do to me what you do to him. Waiting for you and imagining myself what his orgasm expression looks like, anticipating your arrival, all fucked-out and hoping he hasn't made you too tired to 'roger me senseless' next." Her voice was low and seductive as she leaned into his attentions.

"Have I told you lately how amazing you are?" Draco asked.

"Every day, my love."

He released her hands from behind her back, and patted the bed. "On the bed, love." She rolled her shoulders and did as she was told, crawling up onto the bed. "Stay here on your back. You may not touch yourself. If I'm not back in the morning, go ahead and take care of that little bit of business we need to clear up, yes?"

"Yes, renmen m'."

"Good girl." He leaned down to kiss her.

Harry examined the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey, thinking it wasn't nearly enough for him to get as arseholed as he'd hoped to become, and the mini bar was certainly not going to do the trick. He was certain that the shop in the wizarding district was now closed. "Fuck all!" he swore, and set the firewhiskey back on the counter. " _Geminio!"_ An identical bottle appeared next to the first.

There was a knock at the door. Harry grabbed the bottles, setting one on the coffee table, and went to the door with the other in hand, wondering who could possibly be knocking at this hour. He was not in the mood to redirect some posh git with the wrong room number looking for his mistress. He snatched it open irritably. Draco stood there with an unreadable expression on his face. His hair was no longer held back by the leather band and his shirt was improperly buttoned, still untucked from their earlier encounter. Harry thought he looked uncharacteristically disheveled, particularly given that he was the type never to allow himself to be seen in such a state, especially while standing in one of the city's finest hotels.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

Draco looked down at the bottle of Ogden's Old in Harry's hand. Adrestia had been right. He was upset about what happened. He stepped past Harry and into the suite.

"Have you already drunk that much?"

"I don't recall inviting you in, Malfoy," Harry remained by the open door.

"No, you didn't," Draco flicked his wand and the door swung closed, locking itself. "I see we're back to Malfoy. Is that because you think I only wanted you for a notch on my broomstick?"

"Wasn't it? The dinner date was just a ruse to get me back to your place and ask leading questions until you had me where you wanted me, right? Now you can expose 'Saint Potter'—isn't that what you like to call me—as a kinky perv with a crush on his arch rival, is that it?"

"Why would I do that?" Draco asked with a calm that only made Harry more frustrated. He walked right up to the blond, eyes full of fury.

"Because, that's what was in it for you, right? You provide a service no one else could take care of, and I owe you a favor. You wanted to see if I would accept the offer. You like a challenge, right?"

"Harry, you asked me what it was like. I _asked_ you if you were certain, and you said 'yes' more than once. I gave _you_ what you wanted."

"Doesn't hurt that you got the benefit of seeing me utterly debauched though, does it?" Harry pointed his finger at Draco, poking him in the chest.

"You're right. It doesn't hurt. It was a fucking turn on. I finally got one of my most secret fantasies fulfilled," Draco replied.

"I should have known better!" Harry continued to rant, heedless of what Draco was saying. He unstoppered the bottle of firewhiskey, gesturing with it as he spoke. "You are so predictable, Malfoy!"

"Put the bottle down, Harry."

"Don't _tell_ me what to do!" Harry lifted the bottle to his lips, but it disappeared from his hand before the first drop could touch his tongue. He glared at Draco. "What the hell?"

"You're not listening to me." His tone was still infuriatingly calm, and Harry made to give him a shove.

"I don't have to listen—" Harry gave a startled yelp as Draco grabbed his arm, spinning him around and shoving him down on the sofa, pinning it behind him. He sat on Harry's legs and pulled his other arm back, holding his wrists together and snatching the tie that still hung loosely from Harry's neck. He quickly bound his wrists and held Harry's shoulders down as he struggled beneath him.

"Now then," Draco leaned over Harry, one hand gripping his hip firmly. "Are you going to shut your fucking mouth, or do I have to shut it for you? You'd look quite a sight with a Langlock jinx right now," he leaned down and snarled in his ear, jerking his hip down against the Gryffindor's for emphasis.

"You wouldn't!" Harry bucked against Draco, who pushed back even harder

"What exactly do you think I _do_ with recalcitrant submissives, Potter? And that bucking doesn't piss me off, it just gets me hard!" Draco rolled his hips against Harry's ass again.

The friction of the sofa cushion against his groin, stirred something in Harry and he pressed his lips together, biting back the whimper that threatened to spill from his throat. Frustrated, he stopped struggling.

"That's better," Draco said, nipping Harry's ear. "Now then, I recognize that Gryffindor passion tends to get in the way of listening and common sense, so I'll repeat myself…this time." Draco fisted Harry's hair, pulling his head back as he continued to press his hips against Harry's. When he spoke, his voice was filled with the huskiness of his mounting arousal. "I _absolutely_ enjoyed seeing you utterly debauched. You have _no idea_ how I have fantasized about that _gorgeous_ cock of yours. All those fights I picked with you in school—I'd hoped that you'd hit me, just so you would touch me. I would _never_ tell anyone what we did. Do you know why?"

Harry was hard now, and Draco's rutting against him was agonizing. He could hear the rush of his pulse in his ears and his breathing was ragged.

"Why?" he groaned, and much as he didn't want to, Harry pushed back against Draco.

"Because…" Draco kissed up his neck and sucked on the bottom of his jaw beneath his ear, eliciting a shuddering moan. "No one else can _possibly_ appreciate just how fucking hot you are! If I could, I'd lock you away, and never let _anyone_ have you!" Draco released Harry's hair and moved away from him, pulling him up into a sitting position.

Harry slouched to take the pressure off his wrists, his erection straining against his pants, and looked up at Draco. His face had that hungry look again that Harry had seen at his house earlier that evening when they rubbed one off together. He sincerely hoped that meant that Draco wouldn't leave him there bound and wanting, but his worry was abated almost immediately, when Draco climbed into his lap, straddling his hips.

He rolled his hips and groaned at the friction and feel of Harry's erection pressing through layers of trousers against his own. "Oh, _fuck_ , Potter! I want to mark you!" Draco unbuttoned his shirt. "I want to mark you, and make you _know_ you are mine!" He pulled off the expensive Egyptian cotton and dropped it to the floor.

Harry's mouth dropped open as his gaze fell upon the white lines that marred Draco's pale flesh and the piercings in each blush nipple. He tugged against the tie wrapped tightly around his wrists.

"Draco, I—" Before he could complete the thought, Draco had grabbed the back of his neck, pressing their lips together, tongue plunging hungrily in Harry's mouth.

"Don't!" he hissed when they broke apart for air. "You have no idea the thrill that shot through me when I saw you about to kneel for me—for _me!"_ Draco stared down at Harry, whose head was back against the sofa, eyes half closed, moaning as he lifted his hips to meet Draco's. "I couldn't let you do that." He pushed against Harry's chest and stood. Harry let out a frustrated whimper. "Because you were only curious, you aren't sure."

Harry looked up at Draco, who stared down at him with an assessing gaze. Again, he wondered if the Slytherin would leave him bound and debauched as some form of punishment and humiliation. Draco pointed his wand at Harry.

"What the hell?" Harry exclaimed, struggling against his bonds now, a curse on the tip of his tongue.

"I wouldn't do this for just anybody, you know." Draco flicked his wand and Harry's trousers and pants were gone, his cock standing at full mast.

"Malfoy! You fucking _shit! Accio—_ " He didn't finish the incantation before Draco dropped to his knees and took Harry's erection into his hand, stroking it slowly.

"It's _Draco_." He flicked his tongue at the head of Harry's cock. "Say it!" Draco licked the underside of his rod, from Harry's balls up to the head, slowly, slowly. Harry shuddered and groaned. "Say it!" He licked and kissed the length of Harry's shaft. "If you want it, you have to say it. Say my name!" Draco ran his impeccably manicured nails over the sensitive flesh of Harry's inner thigh and cupped his balls in his hand, humming into them.

"Ohhh, fuuck! Fuck! Fuck! Draco!" Harry cried.

"Well done, Potter!" Draco kissed Harry's balls. He licked his lips, looking up at Harry as he took him into his mouth.

"Shit! Draco! Fuck!" Harry exclaimed, thrusting upward as Draco's lips slid down his shaft. He pulled against his bonds. Draco moaned around him, and Harry became completely unwound. "Fucking Godric!" he cried. " _Relashio!_ "

"Hm!" Startled, Draco began to pull back, but Harry grabbed a fistful of blond hair and shoved his head down onto his cock, thrusting into his throat. Draco let out a muffled grunt.

"Oh, my _gods!_ " Harry declared. "Draco! Draco! Draco!"

Draco allowed Harry to guide him and he reached down to free his own aching cock, gripping tightly as he stroked. He moaned again, looking up at Harry as the dark-haired wizard fucked his mouth. Then the Gryffindor was pulsing against his tongue, pushing his head down. Draco spasmed and jerked as his airway was cut off, then he felt hot spunk down his throat as he shattered with orgasm at the same moment.

Harry released his hair and Draco slumped backward, leaning against the coffee table. He looked up at Harry, who was staring up at the ceiling.

"What just happened?"

"I answered your question." Draco wiped his hand on the carpet, careless of the fact that such behavior was considered indecorous.

"What question?" Harry raised his head.

"Earlier, before Moody interrupted our conversation, you asked if I had thought of having you before."

"Oh." Harry's mind was racing again, full of questions, but he was unable to form any of them to speak coherently.

"Malfoy, I—"

"It's _Draco._ " He pushed himself up and perched on the edge of the coffee table, leaning towards Harry. "You have choices, Harry—dominant, submissive, switch—maybe just vanilla. Straight, gay, bi—anything else. Take some time to figure what you want." Draco stood and began to put his appearance back to rights. "I know there's a lot on your mind. Don't let it vex you." He gave Harry a wink and leaned down to brush his lips over the other's. "Enjoy your first ever holiday." He smiled, the likes of which Harry had never seen on the Slytherin's face, and disapparated.


	5. At His ServiceCalling Card

_** Author's Note: OMG! I Totally forgot to post this chapter! I hope it didn't cause too much confusion in your reading! It's just a little interlude to segue from one moment to another. Sorry!_

* * *

Mario DiSenna lined up the bills he had just counted and tapped the stack of money on the desktop, setting it aside. He stubbed out his cigarette and held out his hand to the young woman standing in front of him.

"What?" she asked, defiantly.

"You're short, Mia," he replied.

"I am _not!_ " she protested, hotly.

"C'mon, Mario! Why we gotta go through this every damned morning?" protested the girl behind Mia.

"I know y'all need to hurry up. Shit, if my auntie be late for work because I'm up in here fucking with this bullshit and can't pick up my kids on time, it's gon' be some'n!" complained another. "You know what? Fuck it. Here!" She reached around the girl in front of her and threw down a stack of bills before storming out.

"I'm out too," said Mia. "I'm not giving you another fucking dollar, Mario." She turned to go, but the club owner shot out of his seat, grabbing her by the hair, and yanking her back hard.

"You owe 210 dollars. _That's_ 170\. That mean's somebody don't get paid, sweetheart. Now, what's it gonna be? You want I should tell DeShawn his money's going to be short? Or maybe Amelia don't make her rent this month because Mia ain't putting in her share. I got a better idea—you don't give me another fucking dollar, and I make sure you don't _make_ another fucking dollar in my club. How about that, bitch? Get the fuck outta here, and don't come back!" He released her hair, giving her a shove. "Yo, Bernard!" he called.

A burly man in a skintight tee shirt and black jeans entered the office. "Yeah, boss?"

"See this greedy whore out, and don't let her hungry ass in here again!"

"Let's go, babe." Bernard took Mia firmly by the arm and pulled her from the room.

"And check her shit for the two-ten she owes me! Fuckin' bitch!" he muttered over Mia's angry protests and epithets as she was dragged out of the club. "Anybody else got a problem with her arithmetic?" The other dancers mumbled in the negative as they grudgingly paid their house fees and eagerly departed. Bernard returned a few minutes later and tossed a bundle of bills onto the desk.

"There's someone here to see you, boss."

"Who is it? Not that Beverage Control Agent. That shit was supposed to be taken care of. I fuckin' paid enough money to make it happen." Mario muttered as he counted the money he'd collected and lined it up. He bound all of the stacks of cash and placed them into the drop safe beneath his desktop.

"I don't know."

"Whaddya mean you don't know? What are you, stupid? You let somebody into my club at closing without finding out who the fuck he is?"

"It's a girl, boss."

"Yeah? How's she look?" Mario asked. Bernard gave him an affirming nod and a smile. "Real tits, real hair?"

"Looks like it," Bernard replied.

"Alright, give me a minute and send her in." Bernard left the office and Mario straightened his tie, running a hand over his hair. There was a knock at the door. He licked his fingertips and slid them over his eyebrows. "Come in!"

Beautiful didn't begin to describe her. She had skin the color of bronze, her large, bright eyes set off by dark hair that was styled in a pixie cut. Her impossibly long legs were clad in skintight leather pants that laced up the side, offering a hint of skin all the way up to her round hips. A matching triangle of leather covered her ample bosom and tied over her bare back and neck with thin laces. She carried a small Dooney & Bourke backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" he murmured as she approached, rounding the desk and perching on the edge. He gathered himself and sat back leisurely in his chair. "Welcome to Club Visconte. Today is your lucky day, sweetheart. I just so happen to be in need of a new dancer, and _you_ look like just the one who could feed my need. What's your name, hon?"

"Bet," she replied.

"Bette? Like Bette Midler? That's one funny chick."

"No, Bet—like let's make a bet."

"Oh yeah? Well, I _Bet_ we— _you_ will make a shitload of cash if you work for me, Bet. You got any dance experience?" Mario leaned forward in his chair and slid a hand up her leg. She placed one stiletto-clad foot on the chair between his legs, halting any further forward motion on his part.

"I'm not here to dance, Mr. DiSenna, but I _bet_ I'll be leaving with all your cash this morning."

"Is that so?"

"Pravus is tired of waiting to be paid. I'm here to collect on the debt." She smiled. Mario scoffed.

"I don't know any Pravus. Whoever he is, if he thinks sending some slash to ride my dick will get me to cough up my hard-earned cash, he's got another think coming! Dafuq outta here. Go roll some other dumbass, baby." Mario sat back again with a smug grin.

"Tsk tsk, Mario. We made your problem with Beverage Control go away, and now you want to play games." She used her bodyweight as leverage to push the chair back as she slid from the desk and crouched in front of the safe, her hand on the handle.

 _Alohomora!_ There was a click, and she turned the handle on the safe.

"What the hell?" Mario grabbed her arm. She spun around and grabbed him by the throat, her eyes blazing. "Bernard!" he bellowed.

 _Furari Spiritus!_

"Mario, Mario, Mario. Bernard is a bit out of it at the moment, _stupefied_ as he was by…all this." She gestured vainly to herself. "Now then, Mr. Pravus would like his money—today. So, we can do this one of two ways. I let you breathe again, and you'll never see me again—meanwhile, I leave with this cash. Or, you can leave on a stretcher with an oxygen mask, and you will see me every time you close your eyes—meanwhile, I still leave with the cash. The choice is yours." She brushed her lips over his. "You look a little blue, shall we choose door number one?" She glanced down at the safe and back at Mario. He nodded frantically.

 _Finite_

"Wise choice." She gave his cheek a little slap before going back to the safe and turning the handle to open it, filling her satchel with the stacks of cash inside.

Mario was still catching his breath, clutching at his tie to loosen it, as the dark beauty sauntered from the office. The mysterious Bet walked leisurely away from Club Visconte and stepped into the nearest alley. She gave her head a toss and the glamour melted away a second before Adrestia disapparated.

* * *

Draco lay sprawled across the sumptuous king-sized bed, still clad in his clothes from the previous evening. His eyes were closed, but his mind was far from rested. He kept replaying the events of his encounter with Harry.

 _"_ _I think you were torn between despising him, and wanting his hot prick in every way…Did you imagine me on my knees for you?...It was a fucking turn on. I finally got one of my most secret fantasies fulfilled…You have no idea the thrill that shot through me when I saw you about to kneel for me…I wouldn't do this for just anybody, you know…"_

The memory of having Harry pinned beneath him, bucking against his crotch as he rutted against him, and the feel of his pulsing cock as Draco's lips closed around it sent a shudder through him. Draco let out an aroused sigh and ground his hips into the mattress. He wondered if Harry felt their true connection. There was an almost inaudible pop, and the scent of vanilla and cocoa butter wafted beneath his nose.

"How'd it go?" he asked, not raising his head.

"Everything he owed, plus a little interest," she replied. Draco rolled onto his back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Adrestia unzipped the bag and showed him the bundles of cash.

"So, no problems then?" He waved his wand and the cash disappeared to his safe.

"There was this girl," she said.

"And?"

"Well, as I was arriving, his bouncer was shoving her out the door. He pushed her down on the sidewalk and rifled through her bag, and took out a wad of cash. I heard him say that she shorted the house, but she said she'd already paid DiSenna. The other girls were complaining about the house fees too when they came out. I uh—I found her and gave her back the money. You can take it out of my cut, but—"

"Come here," Draco cut her off. She moved to the bed, eyes down. He snagged her collar and pulled her in for a kiss. "You know her name?" he asked.

"Mia, I think."

Draco gripped her waist and began kissing down her chest. He moved his hands up to pull at the ties that held her halter in place until it fell away.

"Contact Paellax and see if he can set her up with a new situation." He pulled her onto the bed and rolled on top of her, palming one breast while he licked around the nipple of the other. She arched her back and exhaled slowly.

"Y-yes sir." She rocked her hips up to meet his. "M-may I ask what happened last night?"

"Rogered him senseless," he replied and pinched both of her nipples hard as he kissed down the center of her chest.

"Ah! Ah! Ahhh!" she squirmed and cried out. "You mean…oh!...he let…you? Mmm!" She gripped the bedclothes as he sank two fingers into her pussy and pressed circles over her clit with his thumb.

"No—and I didn't bend over for him either—I sucked his cock." Draco slid another finger inside her and moved his hand faster.

"You—really?" she panted, lifting into his thrusts.

"My! That got you good and wet, didn't it? Wishing it was you whose throat he had his prick down?"

"Maybe," she purred, pushing against his thrusting hand. Draco grabbed her face.

"Don't be coy!"

"Unh!" She lifted her hands.

"And _don't touch._ " He released her face and pinned her wrists above her head, removing his other hand from her cunt. Draco slid his fingers into her mouth and moved them slowly in and out, smiling with approval as she licked each digit clean of her essence. "Well done, princess." He twitched his hips against hers. "I know you're aching for me, but I have a task for you. Go to your room and wait for me."

* * *

Harry woke face down on the sofa, the frames of his glasses digging into the side of his face. He sat up with a groan and straightened them out, rubbing the slightly numb sensation from the side of his face. Spying the duplicate bottle of firewhiskey on the table in front of him, the events of the previous night came back to him—the dinner, billiards and questions, Draco's arrival at his suite, the argument—Malfoy on top of him…Draco on his knees between Harry's legs. The memory stirred his groin to life and Harry realized for the first time that he was still half-naked.

As he reached down to relieve his morning glory, there was a knock at the door. He groaned and cast about for his clothes, hastily stepping into his trousers, sans pants, and adjusted himself to hide his erection as best he could before trudging to the door. He was surprised to find Adrestia standing on the other side.

"Er—Adrestia!"

"Good morning, Harry. I hope that I'm not interrupting anything." She smiled, but Harry noticed the appraising look she gave him as he stood there with shirt untucked and suspenders hanging, clearly in clothes from the previous night.

"Oh, erm—no, not at all, come in!" he stepped back to allow her to enter. Harry couldn't help but give her the once over as she strode into the living area.

Her hair was pulled into a graceful braided updo that showed off her slender neck and the slim diamond necklace about her throat. She wore a white wrap blouse in silk crepe de chine with a plunging v-neckline which drew the eye to her ample and braless bosom, with a dark green pencil skirt that clung to her curves like a second skin. He wondered at her ability to move so gracefully in the impossibly tall heels on her feet, but the four-inch-heeled pumps with the demure platform only served to make her long, toned legs and round ass look even more inviting. She pivoted as only a runway model could, and placed a hand on her hip.

"So, what can I do for you, Adrestia? Does Draco know that you are here?" he asked.

"He does. I'm to deliver this to you." She opened her purse and retrieved an envelope, passing the fine stationery to him. Harry took it, turning it over in his hand and pushing up his glasses as he examined it.

 _Harry—FYEO_ was written in neat script on the front of the cream-colored linen. The flap bore a seal embossed with a horned serpent. He placed the envelope on the sideboard.

"Thank you. Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Not unless you desire anything else of me."

"Well, I—" he began, but paused, acutely aware of the erection in his trousers that was only somewhat concealed by his shirttail. He looked closely at Adrestia. She stood quite casually, but he noticed that her eyes were actually focused on the floor. "What about Draco?" he asked.

"He could easily have had a courier deliver that," she said. "But he didn't." She smiled and placed her purse on the table and faced him with what appeared a military stance. Her nipples made their presence known beneath the filmy fabric of her blouse.

Harry stood in wonder for several minutes, but she did not move as he stared at her. He wasn't certain what to do. As with the night before, Harry's mind was in a tumble of thoughts and emotions. He'd never had a sexual experience with a man, but he couldn't deny that he'd ultimately enjoyed the encounter with Draco. He'd fallen asleep wondering what that meant about his sexuality. Had he been suppressing his feelings for Draco all this time? Had he ever been attracted to Ginny? He'd enjoyed sex with her—or so he thought. Was he still attracted to women? Adrestia was definitely amazingly beautiful, this he could not deny, but what was her relationship with Draco? He hadn't seemed bothered as to whether he was interested in her, given that he'd actually offered her to Harry. Harry was torn, but his erection urged him to make a decision as it nudged against his zipper.

"Take off your clothes," he said finally, his voice throaty with dryness.

She moved seductively, slowly drawing the blouse from her shoulders until it fell in a soft heap on the floor. Then, after sliding down the zipper, she turned and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt and slid it over her hips with a shimmy, offering an enticing view of her ass as she bent low. Harry's hand moved instinctively to his crotch as he watched. When her skirt hit the floor, she stepped out of it, feet apart, still perched in the high-heeled shoes.

"On your knees."

She complied.

"Come here."

She crawled to where he stood. Harry bit his lip as he looked down at her.

 _Don't be nervous. Do what feels natural and right._

"Bloody hell! You're a legilimens!" he exclaimed.

"Please forgive me, sir!" she apologized profusely. "It's a weakness of mine. Sir has warned me against unwarranted invasions!" She lowered her face to the floor between her hands.

Harry shook off the shock of coming face to face with another legilimens skilled enough to connect without the use of an incantation and took a deep breath.

 _He's right you know, but maybe you can make up for your breach of etiquette._

She lifted her head in shock. He winked.

 _Yes, I can do it too. Come. I want to watch you Jill while you suck it._

He opened his trousers and took his cock in hand, slowly stroking his erection. She crawled closer and wrapped one hand around the base of his cock while the other massaged her clit. Harry rocked his hips forward and she opened her mouth to take him in, her lips tight over her teeth. Harry groaned as she began to move back and forth, her tongue dancing over the head of his prick, cheeks hollow with each pull. He grabbed the back of her head, pushing deeper and tilted his head to watch her hand moving over her pussy.

 _Yes! Fuck! You're gagging for it, aren't you?_

"Mmmm!" she moaned around him and he shuddered.

"Fuck!" Harry pulled back, not wanting to go over the edge yet. "Get up." He pointed to the sofa and she scurried to bend over the arm, her face in the cushion. Harry spied his tie tucked between the cushions and summoned it, pulling her wrists together and binding them. He reached down and slid a finger into her pussy. "Merlin! So wet! Were you hoping I would fuck you?" He slid another finger inside, stroking her slowly.

"Yes, sir." Her voice was muffled by the cushion.

"Do you want me inside you?" He slid another finger in while he gripped his cock with his other hand.

"Yes, please!" she panted. Her legs trembled slightly and she pushed back against his hand, tightening around his fingers. Harry muttered a contraceptive spell and grabbed her hips, plunging into her.

"Fucking Godric!" he exclaimed as his cock was enveloped in slick heat. He planted his feet and thrust deep, eliciting a feline howl. "Do you like that?"

"Oh my god, _yes!_ " she cried. He pulled back slowly, just the tip of his head inside. She whimpered and rocked back. Harry slammed in forcefully. "Aaaah! Aaah! Oh!" she screamed, lifting herself. Harry leaned forward, pushing her down and holding her face in the soft cushion.

He rolled his hips hard and fast, his balls slapping her clit. "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" he swore as she bucked beneath him, pussy tightening around his cock, her moans muffled. Harry was breathless and felt as if he was about to drown as he inched closer to the edge of orgasm. He stood and grabbed her hips again, digging his fingertips into her flesh and throwing his head back, he lifted on his toes and drilled as deep as he could until his pulse rushed in his ears and his legs vibrated.

"Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" she howled, shuddering beneath him.

"Goddammit! Fuck! Dammit! Fuck!" and Harry was shattered, jerking his release. He twitched a few more times before slumping over her back.

 _Can I keep you?_

 _No, but Sir is happy to oblige whenever you wish._

 _Is he?_

 _Sir would give you almost anything. He's been waiting a long time for you._

* * *

Harry was at odds and ends once he was alone again. He stood at the window, looking down on the Public Garden below. He had more questions than answers and everything was swirling around in his brain like a storm. Was he gay? Was he bisexual? Did he have feelings for Draco? What did Draco want from him? Why couldn't he get the pale blond out of his head? Was he a top? A submissive? What did all of that even mean? The only person he knew who could answer that right then was the one person Harry wasn't certain he wanted to see. And then there was Adrestia—what was she to Draco? Why had he sent her? Then he remembered the missive that she'd been there to deliver.

He summoned the envelope and broke the seal. Inside was a green notecard with a slight shimmer to it that reminded Harry of the scales of a Welsh Green dragon. He slipped it out and turned it over. There was no writing. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. Why would Draco send him a blank note? He held it up to the window, turning it in the sunlight. He could see the holographic image of a coiled horned serpent appear as he pivoted the card back and forth. Finally, Harry drew his wand and touched it to the card. The neat script appeared in golden letters.

 _What we are doing here is only the image of what we would like to do._

 _-D._

"Why can't you just be direct, Malfoy? What the hell?" He muttered to himself. Harry let out a sigh and tossed the note back down on the sideboard. He paced in front of the windows for a while longer, turning the questions over in his head again and again. Finally, he went into the bedroom and began throwing his clothes into his bag. He slung it over his shoulder and looked around the suite. Spying the green card, Harry made to toss it in the bin, but paused, hand over the wastebasket. He shoved the card into his jacket pocket and went to the lobby to check out of the hotel.


	6. Leverage

The sandy-haired young man flashed his press credentials and waited his turn to pass through the metal detector. The courthouse guard gave him a once over.

He must have been new. The guard thought that he'd recognized all of the legal correspondents that came through. This one still seemed to hold that edgy-eager-to-prove-himself look. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore a typical young reporter uniform—blue jeans, cotton oxford with a loose tie and a blazer, his feet shod in boat shoes. What stood out was the clean _designer_ look of the man's attire. It did not say _I'm-just-out-of-college-with-loan-debt_ , but more like— _my-trust-fund-is-bigger-than-the-Powerball-jackpot._

The young man stepped through and their eyes met briefly. Then reporter licked his lips and nodded. The guard shuddered slightly, thinking to himself how lucky Trust Fund Reporter's girl must be.

Draco glanced over his shoulder as he walked away from the security checkpoint. As he'd thought, the guard was watching him go. It might be worth getting to know him better. This job was a big one, and while he was more than confident in Adrestia's skill, both of their resources were needed in order to get the job done. Currently, he had her working the jury.

"Do you think he'll take the stand?"

"No way he'll do that. The prosecutor will rip him to shreds."

"Well, she certainly needs this feather in her cap. He's the biggest fish in the pond. But she's dying on the testimony so far. All of her witnesses are testifying like they're afraid to speak. If Baxter doesn't work some real magic, she's done."

Draco listened to the reporters with interest as they took the elevator to the fourth floor, where the courtroom was located. Michael Shaughnessy, head of the Shaughnessy Family, was on trial for murder and arson. The Massachusetts State Police had been investigating Shaughnessy for a number of racketeering offenses, but had thus far been unsuccessful in building a solid case. Then, six people were killed when a popular and historic pub, Halligan's on the Hill, was burned to the ground in a firebombing many described as straight out of the mob textbook.

The pub's owner, Kevin Halligan, his wife, Nancy, and their daughters, Elizabeth, Marcy, and Siobahn, along with Marcy's husband, Michael O'Toole died in the explosion and resulting fire. The women were asleep in the apartment upstairs and succumbed to smoke inhalation. Kevin and Michael, who was a bartender, were closing up for the night when two pipe bombs were thrown through the front window. They were killed in the blast.

Rumor had it that Shaughnessy had threatened Halligan after he refused to continue paying for protection when he took over the business from his uncle. The pub had served as the local for two nearby firehouses for decades, and as such, public outcry regarding the case had made it headline news from day one. While the argument and subsequent threat supposedly took place in a bar full of patrons, few witnesses came forward, and those who had taken the stand claimed to have had hazy recollections of the events.

Bridget Baxter had been one of the earliest guests at The Horned Serpent and an occasional lover to Draco. She was known to be an exacting domme, and Draco provided her only his most well-trained submissives. One evening, as the young, maverick prosecutor sought some escapist stress relief from her trial, she found herself in a conversation with the proprietor, whom she knew only as _Pravus,_ which would help salvage her floundering reputation.

She had recognized a painting in one of the private playrooms as an Egon Schiele which had been stolen from an auction house in Vienna the year before. Given that revealing her discovery would raise questions about her personal life which she had no desire to make public, they negotiated a deal. Draco offered to help salvage her crumbling case against Shaughnessy in exchange for ensuring he would collect a substantial reward for the "recovery" of the lost painting.

"How could you possibly help me win this case?" she'd asked, skeptically.

"It is best you don't know, love. We wouldn't want those pesky reporters poking around in your personal life. That would do a disservice to us all," he smiled.

A week later, a Mr. Drake Malloy collected the $500,000 reward that had been offered for the return of the painting, which he had discovered after purchasing a storage unit outside the city.

* * *

Draco settled into the hard bench behind the defense table and pulled out a pen and pad. He adjusted the pocket into which he'd tucked his wand, and began to doodle on the edge of his notepad as the attorneys engaged in a prolonged debate over a litany of motions.

The defense attorney was presenting a motion to exclude testimony regarding a fire at a delicatessen a few blocks away from Halligan's, whose owner had been a witness against the defendant in an assault trial a few months earlier. After the fire, the witness recanted his police statement, claiming that he'd not been present when the assault took place, and had only heard a commotion outside his establishment. The debate appeared to be swinging in the defense attorney's favor and Draco knew that Bridget was becoming agitated. She had one hand on her hip, fingers drumming as she gazed up at the ceiling in the way that he knew her to do when she was running out of patience with a misbehaving submissive. He slipped a hand into his jacket.

" _Confundo!_ " he muttered behind his hand. He touched his wand.

"Gesundheit," said the man sitting next to him. He nodded, a conjured handkerchief in hand, as he withdrew it from his jacket, his gaze focused on the judge.

"Motion denied," said the judge.

" _Denied?_ Your honor!"

"If there is nothing else, you may step back."

"But, your honor—" the defense attorney whined.

"We are done here, Mr. Callahan. Step back. Ms. Baxter, please call your next witness."

The delicatessen owner testified to seeing Shaughnessy pistol whip a young man on the street in front of his business, and when cross-examined about his testimony in that trial, he explained that he'd only recanted because one of Shaughnessy's men had encouraged him to lie to the police. When he didn't, his business was burned.

Bridget's final witness testified that she'd heard Shaughnessy directly threaten Halligan, and that she'd seen Shaughnessy's Hummer a block away from the pub shortly before the bombing.

Finally, evidence that had previously been thought "missing" was presented, showing that the incendiary devices for both the pub bombing and the delicatessen fire were practically identical.

Draco eyed Juror #4, a statuesque young woman with peculiar eyes and a long reddish-brown braid, as they returned after only four hours of deliberation. She briefly made eye contact with him before turning her gaze to the bench.

 _Stop staring. You'll draw attention._

The foreman read their unanimous decision—guilty on one count of arson in the first degree and six counts of felony murder.

 _Well done, dragonfly. Keep the glamour—I feel like ginger tonight._

When Draco arrived at The Horned Serpent that evening, he found a long slender box wrapped in black and bearing a silver bow sitting on his desk. He opened it to find a black delrin rod with a cast silver handle featuring a horned serpent coiled around it. He read the small note tucked inside with it.

 _Pravus,_

 _I owe you my sincerest gratitude._

 _-Madame Dike_


	7. Yes, No, Maybe

Harry was examining the owls on display in the window of Eyelops when a flash of white-blond hair appeared in the reflection behind him.

"Draco—" He spun around, realizing as he spoke that it was the elder Malfoy who paused in the street and turned to him with a scowl of disdain.

"I am afraid, Potter, that you will find I am not the person you seek." Lucius looked down his nose at Harry.

"Clearly," Harry replied. He turned away, but found the head of Malfoy's walking stick upon his arm. He turned back, wand in hand. Despite having testified for the family, Harry felt no more trust towards Lucius than he'd ever had in his youth. "If I were you, Lucius, I would consider my next actions very carefully." Passersby withdrew from the vicinity of the adversaries with haste.

"What reason have you to inquire after my son?"

"I don't. I saw your reflection in the glass and mistook you for him," Harry replied.

"How could—" Lucius narrowed his eyes at Harry. "You've _seen_ him!"

Harry's face was impassive. He watched a myriad of emotions cross Lucius face, until it settled into his general calculating expression.

"Mrs. Malfoy has been worried sick wondering of his whereabouts. If you know where he is—"

"I am afraid I don't know what you're talking about." While Harry had little doubt that Draco's departure had greatly affected his mother, he'd sooner cast a _Diffindo_ charm on his wand hand than tell Draco's father where he was. Lucius' face flushed with anger.

"Where is he?" he hissed, taking a menacing step forward. Harry held his ground, only giving his wand the slightest twitch, but the movement was enough to give Lucius pause.

"I have told you that I don't know, Malfoy. Do not mistake my civility for frailty. I would assume that if Draco wishes for you to know his whereabouts, he will divulge them to you. Good day." Harry stared the elder Malfoy down until the other wizard gave him a curt nod and turned on his heel, striding angrily towards Knockturn Alley. Nervous onlookers slowly went on their way and Harry took a breath before turning back to the owl emporium.

"Harry?" he heard a familiar voice behind him and turned once more. "Good to see you, mate!" Neville Longbottom smiled as he caught up with Harry.

"Neville! How have you been?" The two clasped hands and gave a brief hug.

"I am well. No classes today, so I decided to stop in at Flourish and Blotts for a book I've been looking for. Just headed to the Leaky for a bite. Join me?"

"Why not?" Harry fell into step beside his school chum. They entered the Leaky Cauldron, and its recently new landlady, Hannah Abbott ushered them upstairs to a private dining area. Hannah knew that Harry rarely took meals in public, due to the onslaught of admirers seeking photos and autographs. She gave them menus and informed them that the specialty of the day was steak and kidney pie. They both asked for the special with butterbeer.

"So are the rumours in The Prophet true? You and Ginny have split?" asked Neville.

"Yeah. She left me. Although, to be perfectly honest, I think it was a mutual feeling. We're in two different places right now. We both want something different," Harry said, reluctantly.

"Different? Are you seeing someone else?" Neville asked. A waiter appeared with steins of butterbeer. He lifted his to his lips casually and took a sip, licking away the foamy head on his top lip.

"Me?" Harry scoffed. "No. Think about it, Neville, if I was seeing someone new, that too would be front page news."

"I suppose you're right. So, what was that little stand-off with you and Lucius Malfoy? Shouldn't he be bowing at your feet for keeping him out of prison?" He sipped his beer. Harry shrugged.

"Just Lucius being Lucius. Some people haven't a grateful bone in their body. I saw his reflection in the window outside Eyelops and thought at first that he might have been Draco."

"Really?"

Plates appeared on the table and Harry plunged his fork into the flaky pastry. Gravy pooled onto the plate. He took a bite and was pleased to note just how much the fare had improved since Hannah had taken over the pub.

"I saw him recently, actually," Harry said. He instantly berated himself for sharing this information, especially with Neville. He remembered how Draco had tormented his formerly shy and nervous friend when they were in school. Neville only cocked a brow as he lifted his fork to his mouth, and Harry wondered if the confidence the Gryffindor had seemed to discover after the war had tempered his distaste for the Slytherin.

"Did you? Interesting, given his rather reclusive and unassuming habits of late. Everyone assumed he'd gone to ground."

Harry gave Neville a curious look over his mug as he drank, but Neville continued to eat as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary.

"Did you know that he's in America?"

"Hm. How did you find that out?" Neville asked. Harry wasn't sure, but he thought Neville faltered as he lifted his beer mug to his lips.

"I was in Boston on business a week ago now. And, well you remember, during Auror training, I discovered my relative, Iolanthe. We had a lovely visit. She's a special investigator for the DMLE."

They spent the rest of the meal discussing Iolanthe's family and MACUSA Aurors until Neville said that he had to get going in order to receive a fire call he'd been expecting. As they parted, Harry found thoughts of his encounters with Draco and Adrestia at the forefront of his mind. He needed to talk to someone who would hopefully understand.

* * *

"Harry! Come in! When did you get back?" Seamus asked as he stepped back to allow Harry to enter the upscale loft apartment that he and Dean shared near Charing Cross Road.

The loft was spacious and retained much of its original design, with walls of exposed brick and wood plank floors that had been stained and finished in a golden hue. There was a sculptural divider, which doubled as a large wine rack for an impressive collection of vintages, separating the sitting and dining area from a well-appointed galley kitchen. There was an industrial-looking metal staircase beside the kitchen with a turned landing halfway up the rise.

The walls were adorned with fantastic works of art, many of which bore Dean's signature. Taking advantage of the natural light that poured through the large windows, one corner had been set up as an art studio. A number of drawing pads were scattered about the room. There was a work table and a collection of easels where Dean sat before a large canvas, holding a palette and dipping a brush into bright yellow paint. He wore a pair of tatty, paint-stained jeans and no shirt. Harry couldn't help but admire Dean's tight, muscular torso, but when his friend and former roommate turned to put away his supplies, he was shaken to lay eyes upon vicious scars that striped his back—no doubt from the war.

Harry was so lost in the memories the sight dredged up, he hadn't realized that Dean was speaking to him.

"I—what?" he shook his head.

"Dolohov," Dean repeated. "Flagellum Ardere _._ He had caught me unawares, and I thought I was nearly done for, when Flitwick got him."

"My gods!" Harry gasped. "Dean, I—" Harry didn't know what to say.

"They're only ugly because dittany doesn't work on wounds caused by that spell. Hell, it could be so much worse. At least I didn't die." He shrugged, and gave Harry a meaningful smile.

"I suppose there is that." Harry smiled back. "Dying certainly isn't all it's cracked up to be." He laughed and accepted the seat that Dean offered on one of the stylish modern sofas. Seamus was sprawled across the other and Dean joined him, pulling him into his lap.

"I don't think I've ever seen a more affectionate couple," Harry remarked as he watched them.

"It still feels new," said Seamus. "Having 'im back. It took so long for us to even realize our feelings, and then Dean was on th' run. There was so much uncertainty. I didn't know where he was or if he was even alive. Th' effort to just make it through each day in the Room of Requirement sometimes felt like prison to me."

"I remember when the two of you saw each other again. I don't think Ginny even embraced _me_ like that."

"I never wanted to let him go," said Dean. "He was my reason for never giving in."

"Mine too," said Seamus. He inclined his forehead to touch Dean's.

"So, how was San Francisco?" Harry asked, wanting to escape the maudlin memories of the past.

"Beautiful!"

"Amazing!"

"You never left the hotel did you?" Harry teased.

"Did too!" Seamus protested.

"We have pictures!" Dean added.

"Got some from outside the hotel room also!" Seamus teased.

"Oh, Merlin! You guys are incorrigible!" Harry laughed.

"And what exactly did _you_ get up to after we left?" asked Dean.

"What he _means,_ is did ye ever see Malfoy again?" Seamus grinned wickedly.

"I can't _believe_ he simply 'recovered' the paintings without _some_ kind of 'incentive'." Dean made air quotes to emphasize his point. Despite his effort to remain neutral, Harry felt a flush creep up his neck.

"Oh, look, love! He's _blushing!_ " Seamus exclaimed. "What happened?" He let out a gasp. "Ye went back to tha club, didn't ye?"

"No, I did _not_ go back to the club. We erm—" Harry studied the drawing on the page of the open sketch pad that rested on the glass table between them. "Draco took me to dinner."

"Dinner?" Dean and Seamus looked at him with astonishment. "Like a… _date?_ " Dean asked.

"Well, I suppose. He showed up at my suite that morning with a directive to be ready at half seven. He'd reserved a room at Hampshire House. I had the lobster bisque and tenderloin. He had the garden greens, tenderloin medallion and lobster tail. The cabernet sauvignon came from his personal vineyard—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean interrupted. "Did you say Malfoy has his own wine label?"

"Apparently so. Fuoco Serpentino—he received the vineyard in Tuscany as part of his birthright. The wine was quite superb."

"So, tha's it, then? He gets Patty's paintin's back and then decides to buy ye dinner?"

"Erm…no." Harry hesitated.

"Oh, this is gonna be good!" Seamus slid from Dean's lap and the couple leaned forward. Harry's face grew redder.

"Did you _shag_ Malfoy?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"Well…that depends on your definition of shagging," Harry replied, evasively.

"Oh, my gods!" Seamus exclaimed. "What happened?"

"I—it's complicated. I don't really know how it all happened. I just—oh, fuck all!" Harry slumped back into the sofa. Dean and Seamus exchanged looks of concern. They moved to sit on either side of him.

"Harry. What happened? Did Malfoy do something to hurt you?"

"No."

"Wait—you've never been with a bloke before—have you?" Seamus asked. Harry sighed.

"No." He looked at his hands. Dean and Seamus looked at one another again.

"Okay, Harry. Just tell us what happened. We're not here to judge," Dean encouraged. Harry sighed again and continued to look down.

"Well…after the meal, the driver took us to Draco's town house. We had a drink and I challenged him to a game of billiards. I laid a couple hundred quid on the table—"

"A couple hundred quid! You minted bastards are too much!" Seamus muttered. Dean shushed him. "Sorry. Go on, love."

"Well, Draco suggests a game of Truths instead of a cash wager. For each pocket, we ask a question that the other must answer truthfully."

"Oh, dear!" Dean declared. "So what happened?"

"It was really pretty tame, for the most part. Did you know that he had it on with Luna Lovegood third year?"

"Janey Mack! Are you serious?" Seamus exclaimed. Dean's eyes were wide.

"Yeah, and apparently, he also has a partner in this venture, but they have a confidentiality agreement which includes a spell to prevent him from telling who it is. Anyway, I told him about my disastrous first kiss with Cho, and shagging Ginny on the Quidditch Pitch after the Cup last year."

Dean and Seamus choked back surprised laughter, and encouraged him to continue.

"Then I—erm—I asked him what it was like—you know—kink."

"You did?"

"Ohhh…"

"What did he say?"

"Well, he asked what I wanted to know—about being a dominant, or submissive…"

"And?" asked Dean.

"I said I didn't really know, either or both. He asked me if I was sure, and when I insisted, he blindfolded me and…his voice…he just whispered…he was standing just behind me whispering—saying all the things that you all had said to me the other morning about how I'd stalked him and I secretly wanted him, until I just…and then we were…he was watching me, and I was watching him bashing the bishop…and he just kept _talking_ …until we—" Harry took a breath. The memory of that encounter made him feel warm. "Well, we had coffee afterwards, and he fed his ferret—"

"A _what?_ " Dean and Seamus both stared at him shocked at the sudden shift in tone. "A real ferret? Like the one—"

"He even named it Moody!" They laughed before Harry turned quiet again.

"So, it wasn't a proper shag then," said Dean.

"Well," Harry raked his hand through his hair.

"There's more?"

"Oh, yeah. There's more. When I apparated back to the hotel, I realized that I'd let Draco Malfoy get me to admit that I'd been attracted to him, and that I wanted him. Shit, I'd rubbed one off right in front of him because he'd told me he wanted to watch me get off looking at him!"

"Oh, Harry!" Seamus gently rubbed his back.

"I just wanted to get shitfaced, but before I could even do that, he's knocking on the door! I swear, I should have hexed him the moment he walked into the room, but he didn't look smug or calculating or any of that. I couldn't believe he hadn't even really pulled himself together before coming to the hotel! His clothes and hair were disheveled. I tried to rant at him for taking advantage, but he just stood there and took everything I had to say to him! So, I shoved him and that's when he pinned me to the sofa."

Dean fixed Seamus with another knowing look.

"He tied my hands behind my back, and I was still seething until he threatened me with a Langlock jinx. He said I was acting like a recalcitrant submissive and that my behavior was only turning him on, and…" Harry closed his eyes. "The feel of him on top of me…and then he was telling me how much he'd always wanted me, and…Merlin, he kept grinding against me! He sucked me off."

Dean and Seamus shared a gasp.

"Yeah, so…there's that…and, oh, yeah. The next morning, I shagged his girl."

"The one from The Horned Serpent?"

"Adrestia. He'd sent her with a personal invitation to the club."

"Soo…you decided it was a good idea to fuck her?" Dean asked. He'd turned, tucking one knee up, his arm resting on the back of the sofa. Harry shrugged.

"Well, she was there…and my tie was just…"

"You _tied her up?_ " Seamus' eyes were wide as he asked. Harry shrugged again, wiping his hands over his face.

"I—I don't even—Merlin, I'm completely out of my depth! What does all this even mean? Draco Malfoy _knelt for me!_ It took _weeks_ for me to talk Ginny into it!"

"Tell me this, Harry." Dean stood up. "Do you regret what happened? Any part of it?"

"I—well, no. Not really. I just don't understand what it means—how I feel about it."

"Because it turned you on?"

"Yes! Every bit of it! I mean, he barely touched me at first. I was just standing there blindfolded with my hands on the billiard table, but the way he spoke to me…then…"

"Yes?"

"Well, when he had me, on his knees…it was so…I don't know…"

"You don't know what you want," said Dean.

"No, I don't. It's all just a clusterfuck."

"Well…you could always try it," he suggested.

"Y-you mean…with…"

"It's safer with someone ye know and trust," said Seamus.

"But that's only if you want to," Dean said. "If it will give you a better idea of whether this is really for you, we'll show you. Whatever you want—just watch, ask questions—if you want to try something…"

"Like…right now?" Harry asked. A slight ripple of excitement shot through him.

"If you'd like." Dean tapped his thigh and Seamus moved quickly to stand just behind him and to the side. Harry took this in with awe. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

* * *

Harry followed them out of the apartment and down to the basement, where Dean pointed his wand at a heavy metal door. There was a grinding of bolts sliding, and the door swung open.

"This was the strong room when the building was a glassworks. The owner thinks it's disused and he doesn't have the combination," Dean explained.

"But with a little magic…" Seamus grinned impishly.

"Shut it!" Dean snapped. Harry started, unaccustomed to hearing his friend speak so harshly. He flicked his wand and a strip of fluorescent lights buzzed to life. "Go to your corner." Seamus scurried to the far side of the room where he knelt, touching his nose to the wall. Harry looked between them curiously.

"We have rules, Harry," said Dean in a much more natural voice. "I am the Dominant. In our room here, when we play, there is _no talking._ " He raised his voice a bit as he looked in Seamus' direction. "Have a seat." He conjured a comfortable-looking club chair and Harry sat down as he stared around the room.

On one side of the room, built in shelves held an array of items that were mostly unfamiliar to Harry. There were sex toys of various sizes, shapes and textures. He wondered what could _possibly_ be the need for a dildo as large as one or two of those on the shelf, but he was certain he didn't want to find out. He was, however, quite interested in the array of gags—ball gags of varying sizes, ring gags, penis gags—some of which he was certain would make one choke, bit gags, inflatable gags, and torturous-looking items that reminded him of a visit to the dentist. On another shelf were shackles, cuffs and coils of rope in a rainbow of colors. Harry gave a slight shiver when he spied the assortment of whips, floggers, canes and paddles hanging from the wall.

He turned his attention back to Dean, who was bending to whisper in Seamus' ear. Seamus disrobed and turned to kneel, facing them. Harry blinked and looked away. Despite having shared a dorm for six years, Harry had never seen either wizard completely nude. Now that he'd thought about it, despite the intent and result of their encounters with one another, Harry realized that Draco had not removed more than his shirt, and neither had Harry been completely naked. He cleared his throat and shook off the memory of Draco along with the tingling feeling that accompanied it.

"What's that?" Harry hadn't noticed the large wooden X that had appeared in the space before him.

"It's a St. Andrews cross," Dean replied as he stood before the shelf of gags. He selected a large ball gag and grabbed some leather cuffs.

"Come," he said, and Seamus crawled over to meet him in front of the cross. He lowered his head to the floor between his hands. "I'd had something else in mind when we came down," said Dean, coolly. "But, you are clearly in need of a reminder of how to behave in front of guests. Up!"

Seamus lifted his head and resumed a kneeling position, his palms face up on his thighs, back straight, eyes focused on the floor.

"Do we _speak_ without permission?" Dean asked.

"No, Sir."

"Since you are incapable of controlling your tongue, I shall happily assist you." Dean roughly shoved the ball into Seamus' mouth, forcing his jaws wide. He pulled the straps through the buckle and tightened it. Seamus winced slightly, but Harry couldn't help but notice that his cock was no longer flaccid. Seamus liked the rough treatment.

Dean flicked his wand and the leather cuffs attached themselves to Seamus' ankles and wrists. He held out his hand and gestured for Seamus to stand. Dean pointed and Seamus placed his feet onto two small rests at the bottom of the cross and climbed up. Another flick of Dean's wand, and the leather cuffs were secured to the cross. Harry's breath hitched as he watched. Seamus was small of stature like himself, but where Harry was still rather lean and delicate, the Irish wizard had a solid, muscular frame and a round ass that Harry found rather inviting. He bit his lip in anticipation of what would happen next.

"He is beautiful, isn't he?" Dean's voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts and brought him back into the moment.

"Oh, I er—" he stammered. Dean laughed lightly.

"It's okay, Harry. If I didn't intend to share, I never would have invited you down here. By Godric, Seamus and I have talked on more than one occasion about how much we've fancied _you_." He smiled wickedly as he perched on the arm of the chair, idly tapping a riding crop against his leg.

"I—you—what—really?" Harry's mind was quickly turning into a jumbled mess once again. Dean laughed again and ruffled his hair before he stood.

"Don't worry about it, love. We know you're not interested—seeing as you only have eyes for a certain _very blond_ , Slytherin." He smirked. "But if you were, I'd happily leave my chatty little bitch tied up down here while I took you upstairs and shagged your brains out."

At this, Seamus made a muffled noise and wriggled in his restraints. Dean huffed and slapped his ass with the crop. Harry jumped at the sound of leather meeting flesh.

"You _can't_ be serious right now! Showing out in front of guests? As you are _clearly_ desirous of punishment, I shall happily oblige you." Dean struck Seamus again. Seamus let out a muffled grunt, raising up on his toes.

Harry watched in awe as Dean struck Seamus again and again. Seamus writhed and pulled at the restraints that ensured he couldn't escape as his ass burned red. Finally, Dean dropped the riding crop and moved to stand behind Seamus. He kissed each glowing buttock and licked up Seamus' spine.

"Is Daddy's bitch proper sorry?"

"Mm-hm! Mm-hm!" Seamus panted. Dean lightly smoothed his hands over his ass and reached between his legs to palm his balls. Seamus let out a muffled moan, rocking his hips back.

"You took it well, love. Sir is pleased with the way you showed Harry how well you take correction." He reached around and began to stroke Seamus' prick slowly. Seamus shuddered and he murmured softly. Dean touched his wand, which he'd placed in his back pocket, and the restraints were released. Seamus went slack and Dean helped him down. He continued to stroke him off as he kissed his neck. "You want it don't you?"

"Mm-hmm!" Seamus leaned heavily against him, thrusting into Dean's hand. Harry swallowed hard as he watched, curiously aware of his own growing arousal. His hand went absently to his crotch as he kept his eyes locked on the couple in front of him. A thread of saliva dripped from Seamus' mouth, around the gag, and shimmered in the light as it slid over his rippled torso. Dean smeared it over his abs as he rocked his hips against Seamus' ass.

"Sweet fuck-all!" Harry murmured. He licked his lips.

Dean nipped Seamus' shoulder and let go of his cock, earning a dissatisfied whimper from his lover. He drew Seamus' hands behind his back and locked the cuffs together.

"It would be inhospitable and selfish of us to carry on in front of Harry. If you're a good little bitch, I promise to fuck you blind later. Go on." He pointed, and Seamus moved to a spot near the wall and knelt. Dean flicked his wand and the cuffs on Seamus' ankles were also joined together. Harry looked from Seamus to Dean. "You'd be surprised how talented he is at getting himself off, even without his hands." He nodded affirmatively at Harry's shocked expression.

"You look to be in need of relief yourself," said Dean, his gaze settling briefly on the bulge in Harry's jeans.

"Oh, erm…well…" Harry's cheeks reddened.

"It's okay, love." Dean took Harry's hands and pulled him to his feet. They stood so close that Harry could see tiny flecks of paint on his skin that he'd not previously noticed. "We won't do anything you don't want…but I can help you with that if you'd like." Dean gave him a hungry look. Harry looked over his shoulder at Seamus, who squirmed a bit, giving them a look of longing, his cock still at full mast. Dean touched Harry's jaw, gently turning his gaze back to him.

" _This_ ," he gestured to Seamus, and then around the room. "This is what _our_ relationship is. We have an understanding that need not cause you concern. For _you,_ Harry, this is about discovering yourself. You're turned on. Why?" Dean's voice was low and direct.

"Um…"

"Was it thinking about being bound and tormented, or…" Dean summoned a flogger from the shelf and placed it in Harry's hand. "Was it this? Do you like the feeling of power in that?"

Harry stared down at the leather flogger in his hand. He was surprised by the weight of it. He turned the handle and ran his fingers through the black and crimson falls. He thought back to Draco sitting on his legs as he bound his wrists, and the scrape of his fingernails against his scalp as he pulled his head back. He'd nearly lost himself fucking Adrestia, pushing her face into the sofa cushion. He shook his head and handed the flogger back to Dean.

"I think you know that I don't do power well. It doesn't really suit me."

"I know. Submission then?"

"I, erm…I suppose—yeah—no—yeah. Yes." Harry let out a nervous breath. Dean smiled.

"There's no need to be nervous," he said as he tugged Harry's shirt free of his waistband and lifted it over his head. "This is meant to feel good to you." He traced a finger along a scar that ran over Harry's collarbone. Harry shuddered. "Take off your clothes," Dean whispered.

Harry fumbled a moment with his belt, and then stripped off his jeans and underwear, kicking them to the side. Finally free, his member bobbed up toward his stomach. Dean's gaze fell on it and a wry smile crept across his face.

"Well, damn! It's no surprise why Malfoy fell to his knees for you so quickly." He flicked his wand and summoned a small bundle of rope. "We can do some amazing things with magic that would turn you into a quivering puddle of shagged out humanity…" He uncoiled the thin hemp and took Harry's hands, bringing them together in front of him. "But for your first real experience…" He made quick work of binding his wrists together. "I think the muggle way is best…" He removed Harry's glasses and set them aside, then pointed his wand at the ceiling and a heavy looking hook attached to a chain appeared above them. "Well, mostly muggle." He winked. " _Obscuro!_ " Harry's eyes were suddenly covered with a tight blindfold. He inhaled sharply. "Harry?"

"D-Dean."

"I am here. Relax." Harry felt soft hands slide down his arms, and he let out a breath. Dean lifted his hands above his head and attached them to the hook. There was little slack and he found that even raising up on his toes was no help. "Harry."

"Y-yes?"

"Safe word?"

"Erm…" Harry couldn't think. Dean was tracing his fingertips all over his torso. Goosebumps prickled his flesh as his pulse quickened. Dean slid a hand up Harry's neck and into his hair. He felt his fellow Gryffindor's jeans against his member as he stood against him, curling his fingers around a fistful of his hair and pulled Harry's head back, exposing his neck to Dean's warm tongue.

"Harry." He licked his throat. "I cannot continue until you give me a safe word."

"Al-Albus," Harry whimpered.

"Very good. If there's anything wrong or uncomfortable, use it immediately." He released Harry's hair and stepped away from him. Harry started, straining to hear sounds of movement. Suddenly, the falls of the flogger landed gently over his shoulder. Each strand brushed over his back as Dean slid it slowly away. "How does this feel to you, Harry? Good, yes?"

"Y-yes." Harry panted.

Dean teased his backside with it. "What I gave Seamus was punishment, but there can also be pleasure in pain."

Harry felt a quick rush of cool air and the flogger whispered across his shoulder blades like a brush.

"In the right hands, an instrument of torture can bring exquisite pleasure." Dean swung the flogger gently, stimulating the flesh on Harry's back, and moving over his ass. Harry let out a soft moan. "See?"

"M-Merlin!"

Dean built up speed and intensity as he delivered a series of lashes, across his back, ass and thighs. Harry bucked his hips forward, panting.

"Oh! I—" Harry's flesh burned deliciously warm.

"Yes. Don't hold back, love." Dean said, a fine sheen of sweat dotting his forehead as he swung the flogger again and again.

"Oh! Mmm! I need—I—" Harry moaned as he writhed helplessly. Dean stopped suddenly, breathing heavily. "Wha—no! Please, I—" He turned his head about in his dark confines.

"Shhh! Be patient, love." Dean said. "Hold this." He pushed the handle of the flogger between Harry's teeth. "Don't drop it."

Harry whimpered with need, the rough leather felt odd against his tongue, and his cock was achingly hard now. He was close. What was Dean doing? He heard a loud finger snap followed by shuffling and a slight clicking of metal moving closer to him. Suddenly, Dean's fingertips were gliding over his hot and tingling flesh, sliding ever so lightly down his back. The scrape of his fingernails set him ablaze and he moaned loudly.

"Mmmmmmmm!" His legs trembled slightly. Dean wrapped his arms around him and raked his nails down Harry's chest as he pressed against him, his crotch pressed against his ass. Harry rocked back against him. Harry let out a gasp as Dean's fingers curled tightly around his cock and began to stroke it slowly.

"You're about to burst aren't you?" he whispered in his ear, grinding his hips against Harry's ass, denim tormenting his nerve endings, still frenzied from the flogging.

"Unh huh!" He mumbled around the flogger handle in his mouth.

"You wanna cum?" Dean asked. Harry nodded fervently. "I didn't _hear_ you."

"Unh huh!"

"Say, 'please'." Dean pinched a nipple.

"Peashe! Peashe!" Harry mumbled. Dean took the flogger from his mouth, dragging the falls over his skin with agonizing slowness.

" _Finite!_ " He whispered.

The blindfold that covered Harry's eyes vanished and he blinked in the sudden light. At the same moment, his prick was enveloped in slick warmth. He looked down, just able to realize that Seamus had taken him into his mouth.

"Oh, my—aah!" Dean struck him with the flogger again, and he bucked forward, pushing deeper against Seamus' throat and nearly toppling the still-bound Gryffindor. "Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!" Harry's legs trembled as he inched closer to orgasm with each blow to his back, each stroke of Seamus' lips taking him deeper and deeper, Harry's cock hitting the back of his throat. Finally, Harry let out a guttural moan not too unlike a growl, and his entire body convulsed as he pitched over the edge of the abyss called orgasm.

" _Well done,_ Harry!" Dean caught him as he released his bindings, Harry's legs gone slack, and eased him into the chair. "You are so beautiful!" he exclaimed.

* * *

"So, erm…how—how did the two of you get into this?" Harry asked later. He was curled into one end of one of the sofas, a fleece throw tucked under his chin. Seamus was similarly huddled at the other end of the sofa. Dean placed steaming bowls of miso soup on the table in front of them along with cups of green tea.

"I think I might always have had some inclination towards it," said Seamus. He sat up and took his bowl of soup in hand. "I just always kept it to me'self—it seemed kind of bizarre to be relatively unconcerned when I fell and injured me'self, or consistently blew up everything around me," he laughed. The other two wizards joined in, remembering the numerous mishaps he'd had during their school days. "But there's not a dominant bone in me body—remember what the Carrows did ta me fer refusin' to participate in their torturous detentions. I only went into hiding in the Room of Requirement because I thought they'd eventually end up killin' me in their efforts ta break me, and if Dean survived, he'd be shattered."

"I was still shattered, beloved—the sight of your face!" Dean frowned as he poured himself a cup of tea.

"Aye! Thank Asclepius for Madam Pomfrey's skill as a healer!" Seamus slurped his soup.

"If I'd always had an inclination for dominance, I don't think I recognized it until after the war. It frightened me a bit. I had a lot of pent up restlessness and rage. I didn't want to go home, because I didn't think my family would understand. They were so upset by my disappearance and all. Mum was smothering me. Dad kept trying to convince me to just live in the muggle world. He and I fought a lot, and my magic got a bit out of hand. I actually threw him into a wall and broke his collarbone! I'd never done accidental wandless magic—not of that sort. Mum was very upset, but I tried the best I could to explain that it wasn't intentional. Dad said that I was suffering PTSD—post-traumatic stress disorder. He was in the Royal Marines, and said he'd had friends who had similar problems adjusting after their combat experiences—though clearly no magic was involved. It still was an overwhelming experience, and I was concerned about my sisters, so I moved out. They're really trying to be understanding about that, and they do really love Seamus, but things just aren't the way they were the first couple of years of school.

Anyway, Seamus and I struggled too, when we first moved in together. Like I said, I was trying to sort out this pent up aggression and it kept seeming to manifest itself sexually. I was really hurting him—rough shags, choking, hair-pulling and slapping—and he just endured it like he was in seventh heaven while I was wracked with guilt afterwards. I wanted to break up, but he suggested we take a holiday and get out of Britain for a while. I've always meant to ask, why the hell did you choose Germany?" He looked at Seamus.

"To be perfectly honest, I just pointed me wand at the map, and Frankfurt was the first city that leapt from the page." Seamus shrugged. He sipped his tea.

"Wily little bitch. I shall have to make sure that you pay for that later."

"You promise?" Seamus gave a little waggle of his eyebrow.

"Do you two _ever_ come up for air?" Harry watched them with amusement as he ate his soup.

"Where's the fun in that?" Dean pulled a mischievous face. "Anyway, we got a bit lost one night and wandered into a kink club. It was like Oz! So much to see and do, and nobody thought it was bizarre. The Domina who owned it happily sat down with us and we learned how to make it safe, sane and most of all—consensual." Dean smiled and drained his tea cup. He was silent for a few minutes as he stared at the dregs of his tea, turning the cup a few times as if he was attempting to divine some secret truth at its bottom. Finally, he set the cup down and refilled it as he spoke again. "Harry, we all know your propensity for throwing caution to the wind when it comes to Malfoy—"

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up his hand.

"Let me finish. You know that you do have a habit of rushing headlong into things when your emotions get involved—and you nearly always let your emotions get involved. However, you usually had Hermione's cool head somewhere nearby to bail you and Ron out. I'm guessing they don't even know that you fancy blokes, let alone _this_ little new discovery," he said, gesturing to their little huddle. "I don't know how they'll react to all that, if you even want to tell them. That's your choice, but Malfoy—you know that's going to be a bitter pill to swallow—assuming the two of you ever pursue anything beyond that one little tryst. If you do decide to accept him and let him collar you, you have to keep your wits about you at all times. He may have helped you set things right with Seamus' cousin, but the fact that he has those types of resources says he's still an underhanded Slytherin."

Seamus leaned forward and put his hand on Harry's knee. "We love you, and we owe you our lives. We just want you to be careful, macushla."


	8. The Green Fairy

Draco languidly sipped the glass of absinthe as the wizard, bound by an Incarcerous spell and Langlock jinx, struggled at his feet. He stared up at the Slytherin, eyes full of fear as his eyes darted between him and the beautiful witch standing behind him.

"My dear Brian, you disappoint me. I was told you had talent," Draco said. " _Crucio Vexo!_ " The other wizard bucked in his restraints with a muffled grunt.

"Who leaves their wand behind? At the scene of a robbery no less? Perhaps it is some small consolation that you at least thought to use one that is unregistered. Nonetheless, now the muggles have reason to wonder about such things. I would have thought mages in this country would be more circumspect with regard to non-magical folk." He flicked his wand again. The other wizard let out a muffled cry as the lash marked his chest. "Furthermore, I have had to _return_ items that were somehow traced back to me! My work is supposed to be _flawless!_ " Draco's voice rose steadily in ire as he spoke, and he flicked his wand again and again, punctuating his words. Brian writhed and struggled on the floor as the angry welts marked his flesh. "What have you to say for yourself?" He lifted the jinx.

"Pravus, it was a mistake! I—"

"A _mistake?_ Mistakes are for muggles! One of the world's _greatest_ Aurors waltzes into _my_ establishment and begins asking questions about one of my acquisitions because you couldn't manage something as simple as a _disillusionment charm!_ You're a fucking pathetic excuse for a wizard! Consider yourself fortunate that I am not _fond_ of unforgivable curses." He waved dismissively. "Deal with him." He left the room.

"Please don't kill me! Please don't kill me!" he begged as Adrestia released his bindings and took him side-along to an alley in a low-rent section of the city.

"We're not murderers, stupid!" She pointed his wand at him. "You tried to rob that bodega over there and the owner beat you up. _Memoriae Ficta!_ " She dropped his wand and disapparated, leaving him wondering how the bodega owner slashed him up, and why he ever thought he could be a stick-up guy.

* * *

She returned to find Draco restlessly prowling the large suite, the gilded reservoir glass empty and abandoned on the side table beside the Chesterfield.

"You're thinking about him again," she said.

"And if I am?"

"He's gone home."

"Has he thought about me?" Draco turned to her.

"I can't do that. He would know it's me. You didn't tell me he's a legilimens too."

Draco stared at her, curiously. "He is?"

"You didn't know?"

"No, I—then why didn't he ever—it doesn't make sense!" Draco pinched his brow. The absinthe was beginning to take over, and he couldn't think straight. If Harry was a legilimens, how could he not have known what Draco was up to when they were sixteen? Or, perhaps that is why Harry followed him that night. But then, surely he would have known how attracted he was to him without him having to tell—but this was Harry, who always seemed to be the last to realize what was really going on.

He could no longer focus on his thoughts as the green fairy was in full possession of his mind. He stared at his beautiful consort, Adrestia, as she stood quietly near the wall.

"I need you, Tia. Come." She moved to him. Draco blinked rapidly, his pupils dilated. She touched his face, pushing his hair away from his already lightly sweat-dampened brow, and he jumped. Draco grabbed her wrists tightly. "Don't touch me! Don't touch me!" His voice had a frantic air to it.

Draco stared at Adrestia. Her skin seemed to glow with the halo around her head. How did she do that? When she touched his face, her fingertips felt like flaming hot torches, and he grabbed her wrists, but his eyes were drawn back to her amazingly beautiful, glowing face. She reminded him of a sirene, her beauty luring him to his death.

Adrestia sighed, hoping that the hallucinations would abate sooner than later. She should have immediately offered him a cup of Wiggenweld Potion, but her hedonistic side rather enjoyed his psychedelic sex play at times.

"Draco?" she tugged lightly, and he freed her wrists, smiling serenely at her.

"You are so beautiful," he said, and drew her in for a kiss, his tongue forcing its way between her lips. She kissed him back, nipping at his lip when he became too aggressive. He grabbed her hair, urging her down to her knees.

Adrestia freed his growing erection from his trousers and took him in. He roughly thrust into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat.

"Oh, Merlin! Yes! Fuck! _Instigosempra!_ " he exclaimed. She shuddered and let out a moan as her clitoris buzzed to life. Draco wrenched her head away from him, forcing her down on all fours. She lowered her head, arms out in front of her, aching to touch herself as the throbbing between her legs made her slick. She moaned again, in anticipation, when he grabbed her hips, lifting them, but she was totally unprepared to hear the incantation he spoke next. " _Immobulus!_ "

Her muscles felt like jelly, and she was rooted to the spot as if suspended in time, unable to move a muscle, speak, or even focus her eyes. Still, the insistent stimulation in her pelvis was agonizing, and she hummed in silent, aroused distress.

" _Resigno Apertus!_ "

" _No! Please!_ " She screamed, silently, but lost in his absinthine fog, he sank his lubricated fingers into her ass and scissored them. It wasn't that they'd never had anal sex, only that it was on her list of soft limits, and given a choice, she wouldn't consent when they were in play, only when they were home in bed. Draco removed his fingers and she braced tearfully for what was to come, when suddenly he collapsed beside her. Adrestia let out a grateful breath and concentrated with all of her might until she was able to nonverbally summon her wand and cast the counter-spell.


	9. She Who Must Be Obeyed

"Where _have_ you been?" The shrill voice met Harry the moment he stepped into the parlour at 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Molly? What are you doing here?" Harry asked, taking a step back, as if it was he who was in the house without an invitation, rather than the other way around.

Molly Weasley stood in the center of the room with her hands on her ample hips, eyes flashing. Ron and Arthur stood guiltily behind her. Harry gave them a withering look, that caused Ron to shrink back further.

"I was unaware that I needed anyone's permission to leave town for a few days," Harry replied, coolly. "I do happen to be a grown man."

Harry wasn't sure what Ron or Ginny had told their parents about the breakup, so he wasn't particularly keen on having a sit-down with them, given his current mental and emotional state. He sat down on the loveseat and attempted not to look like a petulant child. Apparently, he wasn't successful.

"Oh, is that so?" Molly snapped. "If you'd bothered to let someone know that you were going to go gallivanting off to Merlin knows where, we wouldn't be worried sick about you!"

"Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine, Molly. No holes, hexes, or new scars."

"Molly," Arthur touched his wife's shoulder before she could wind herself up further. "We didn't mean to barge in, Harry, but you had to know we would be concerned. Where were you?" he asked. Harry let out a breath and rubbed his hands over his face impatiently, making a note to throttle Ron at a later date.

"If you must know, I went to America."

"Ah, you see, Molly. I'll bet you visited that lovely relative of yours that you met after the war, yes?"

"We did see each other, yes."

"But _why_ would you quit your job, Harry?" Molly sat down next to him. "It was all you talked about when you and Ron were boys. Just because you and Ginny have had a bit of a hiccup—"

"Mum! Molly!" Ron and Arthur exclaimed at the same time.

"Molly, I don't mean to be disrespectful, but it's not just a simple hiccup with me and Ginny. We've parted ways. It's fine. She's fine. I'm fine. And I haven't quit my job. I took a leave of absence."

"But _why_ , Harry? You were on course to take over the entire department in a year or so. If you just stick with it and—"

"Merlin! I'm drowning here, and nobody bloody cares!" Harry leapt to his feet. "I'm sick of doing what everyone expects me to do! I've been doing it since before I could ruddy well even _walk!"_ He went to the credenza and unstoppered a bottle of whiskey, pouring a measure.

"Mum, Dad, if Harry says he's fine, leave him be. Maybe you should go home now." Ron gave his father a plaintive look, and Arthur took the hint, ushering his protesting wife to the fireplace. "Look mate—" Ron began as he turned back to Harry.

"I absolutely can't believe you, Ron! Seriously? I'm surprised Hermione isn't here too!"

"I'm sorry, mate. Really! You know how Mum is. She ambushed me and Dad before we even left the Ministry." Ron explained. Harry stared at Ron, glass halfway to his lips.

"Molly showed up at the Ministry?" he said, incredulously.

"Yes! Godric, it was awful! She said we were coming to check on you immediately, or Dad and I would be sleeping in the shed."

"And so, you waited for me? How'd you know I would show up?" he asked, taking a drink.

"Kreacher said you had returned, but you were out for the day. She wasn't going to budge. Why didn't you say you were going to America, mate?"

"I hadn't planned on going anywhere. If I tell you, you can't share this with anyone."

Ron sat down, looking at him expectantly.

"Like I'd said when we last talked, I got totally pissed and passed out under the kitchen table. Then I got a call from Dean, asking for help. Seamus had been arrested by the muggle police."

"Merlin!"

"So, I got in contact with Iolanthe to help get him out. I stayed a few days. I mean, I've never had a holiday before, so…" Harry shrugged. He didn't want to mention Draco. He was certain Ron would not be as blasé about the subject as Neville had been.

"What was Seamus arrested for?" Ron asked.

"Brawl broke out at the family pub. He punched a cop. They thought his wand might be some sort of burglary tool." Ron gave him a skeptical look. "I don't know. You know how those blokes at The Met can be when they encounter magic. I wouldn't expect the Yanks to be too much smarter." He shrugged, not wanting to go any deeper into the story.

Fortunately, that seemed to be enough for Ron, who nodded in agreement and rolled his eyes. He went to the sideboard and picked up a decanter, pouring himself a measure of vodka.

"Are you seriously not going to come back to the Auror department?" he asked, taking a sip.

"I don't know, Ron. I just need some time, mate."

"I understand. What will you do in the meantime? Any ideas? I mean, besides staying on Mum's good side?"

Harry laughed. "Well, that's a full-time job." He sipped his drink. "I didn't mean to yell. Geez, Molly's as good as the only mother I've ever had."

"When we were kids and had made her particularly upset, we'd draw her a silly picture. She likes sappy stuff like that. Keeps 'em all in a bunch of scrapbooks."

"A picture—heh. Anything I draw is going to look like a little kid did it, for sure." He smiled, and sipped his drink. "Thanks for trying to understand, mate—but if you _ever_ bring her through like that again without warning, I'm gonna shrink your balls!" Ron grimaced, his hand moving instinctively to his crotch.

"Point taken, mate. Guess I'd better go before Hermione shows up too. We're meant to have dinner with her parents tonight."

"Don't look so enthused, Ronald." Harry gave him a teasing grin.

"You know I'm still uncomfortable with muggle places. What if I break something, or freak out? Hermione and I went to one of those D-3 picture things at the cinema last year—you know with the special glasses? I freaked out and nearly blasted the screen, because I thought the film had escaped and we were under attack!" Harry nearly fell from the sofa in laughter. Ron glared at him.

"Why would Hermione take you to a _3-D_ movie without telling you how realistic it would be?" He laughed.

"The whole thing was disturbing, mate. Even the story was creepy. It reminded me of you?"

"Me? What was it called?"

"Erm, let me see…War of the—no— _Star Wars: Episode I—the Phantom Menace_."

"Why did it remind you of me?" Harry asked.

"Well, there was the main character, a boy named Anakin, who is believed to be—get this— _the Chosen One,_ according to some prophecy which claims he will bring balance to this _force_ thing."

"And I guess you're going to tell me that he was an orphan too, right?" Harry chuckled, sipping his drink. Ron gave him a cagey look, and Harry choked.

"Are you serious!" he spluttered. "You know what—I don't even want to know." Harry tossed back the remainder of his drink. Ron did the same, and their conversation moved back to Ron's nervousness about his impending dinner date with the Grangers. "Just tell Hermione that you're nervous, Ron. She's not going to let you embarrass yourself in front of her parents. Take your cues from her. Stick with what you know. If what you're doing feels like something Arthur might do, it's probably the wrong thing, so don't do it."

Ron nodded determinedly, and stood. "Don't do what Dad would do. Keep it simple. Follow Hermione."

"There you go, mate. Good luck." Harry clapped him on the back, and Ron stepped into the floo, disappearing with a wave and a flash of green flames.

* * *

Molly Weasley opened the kitchen window of the Burrow, a few mornings after her rather disastrous visit to Grimmauld place, to see three unfamiliar owls approaching with packages of various sizes clutched in their talons.

She opened the largest package, which contained an ecru-colored cashmere travelling cloak with a velvet collar and an ornate clasp of goblin-made silver adorned with pearls. The smallest package bore a cloisonné locket on a delicate chain, depicting a pink rose—symbol of gratitude—on the front. She opened it and read the inscription. _To Mum, with love. From your seventh son._ When she opened the final package, the tears that filled her eyes began to fall with earnest.

"Mum?" Ron dragged into the kitchen with a yawn. Upon discovering his mother sitting at the table sobbing, he rushed to her side. "What's the matter?"

"That _silly_ boy!" she sniffled, handing him a small notecard.

Ron read the card.

 _I'm sorry for making you worry. -H.P._

"I swear I'll throttle him for upsetting you, Mum!" Ron stormed towards the fireplace, heedless of the fact that he was still wearing only pyjamas.

"No, Ronald. I'm not upset." She sniffled. He turned back to her. "I see you must have told him about the pictures you children always drew for me when you'd made me cross."

She pushed the last package across the table for him to see. Ron looked down at the partially unwrapped package and saw a framed pen and ink drawing that he recognized as one of Dean's favored mediums, and gasped. Blinking back tears of his own, he tore back the paper to fully reveal an unbelievable likeness of Fred, clad in the last Weasley sweater his mother had knit him, his head thrown back in laughter.


	10. Ambush

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets as he left the café a few blocks from Grimmauld Place. He'd stopped in for a cup of coffee and pastry after posting his packages to Molly in Diagon Alley. The early April morning was brisk, but not bitterly cold, so he decided to walk, rather than apparate back to number twelve. He was wearing the leather motorcycle jacket that he'd found hidden in Sirius' wardrobe not long after settling in at Grimmauld Place. Kreacher had carefully conditioned the leather until it looked almost new, and Harry wore the jacket nearly every opportunity he had, despite not having the motorbike for which his godfather had certainly purchased it.

He stopped at the newsstand and purchased a copy of _The Times,_ and perused the available titles among the muggle magazines. Harry barely registered the figure watching from the opposite side of the road, as he picked up a copy of _Time_ magazine and _GQ._ He decided against the magazines, giving the newsstand owner a nod and continuing on, the newspaper tucked under his arm.

Harry headed towards home, thinking he might drop in on Molly later to see how she liked the gifts. He wondered if the drawing of Fred might have been too much. Dean was happy to take the photograph Harry provided and make the picture, but he knew that the loss was still a bit raw for the Weasleys. As he rounded the corner at the end of his street, he noticed that he was being followed. The figure wore a toboggan cap, pulled low over his hair, a pea coat and dark trousers. He kept his head low, and followed at a distance too far for Harry to discern his facial features, but his stride matched Harry's, slowing as he did, and increasing in speed with him as well.

Harry cautiously slid his hand into his jacket, fingertips curling around his wand, as he scanned the street to see if the man had companions. Number twelve was still several houses away, and he didn't want to apparate from the middle of the sidewalk, in case someone happened to be looking out of their window, nor did he want to draw an attack by running. Before he could decide upon a strategy, Harry was seized by the arm and felt the unmistakable pressing sensation of apparition.

* * *

His wand was out the moment they landed in a narrow alleyway between two rows of houses. He pointed it at his assailant's throat, only to have his hand batted away as he was shoved roughly against the wall, his lips crushed in a passionate kiss. Harry struggled against the unexpected assault, finally pushing the other wizard away, and staring in shock.

"What the—" Harry pointed his wand again. His stalker slid the hat away from his pale hair. "Bloody hell, Malfoy! What the hell are you doing here?" Harry tentatively lowered his wand.

"I wanted to see you." Draco stepped towards Harry, reaching out towards him. Harry backed away, eyeing him suspiciously.

"You don't fucking abduct people on the street, for _fuck's sake!_ " His back hit the wall, and Draco continued to move towards him. "I nearly cursed you!"

"It would have been worth it," Draco replied, gently pushing his wand hand aside once more. He grabbed the collar of Harry's jacket, pulling him into another kiss. Harry pushed against Draco, but his resistance faltered as the Slytherin pressed him against the wall, sliding his hands down to his waist and gripping it tightly as he rutted against him. They kissed feverishly against the side of the townhouse, until they were startled by the sound of a car horn somewhere on the street.

"Shit. We can't do this," Harry said.

"Then take me home," said Draco, his gaze intense.

"I—" Harry wanted to protest, but Draco had begun to suck on his neck just below his jaw, and he shivered, letting out a frustrated sigh. He grabbed Draco's wrist and disapparated.

They landed ungracefully in the foyer, upsetting a side table and sending a large vase to the floor with a crash. Mrs. Black began to scream obscenities from beneath the shroud that covered her painting. Harry groaned and cursed back at her to shut up, but the lady of the house continued to rant until Draco snatched away the cloth. Walburga Black drew in a sharp breath and stared at him.

"Morgan Le Fay, Lucius! Whatever are you wearing? Your father would be _scandalized!"_

"I am not Lucius, Aunt. I'm Draco. Do forgive my unfortunate attire. I am in disguise."

"As a _muggle?_ My gods, boy! Whatever for?"

"Can you think of a better way to hide in plain sight? Who looks for a pureblood amongst… _the great non-magical._ " He gave her a devious smile. "I assure you, though distasteful as it is, such apparel was deemed necessary to accomplish the errand which I had undertaken. I will be most pleased to return to proper wizarding attire as soon as the day is finished, and incinerate these awful rags. Please forgive us for disturbing your meditation. We are but humble guests, eternally indebted for your gracious hospitality." Draco gave the portrait a low, courtly bow.

"Clever boy." Walburga's shrill voice softened. "It is heartening that the blood traitor has finally thought to have one of our own in the Noble and Ancient House of Black, if only for a fleeting time. Do give my darling niece my regards." She smiled down at Draco.

"Adieu, Madame." Draco pushed Harry up the stairs as quickly as possible, flicking his wand to cover the painting once more as they went.

"How did you do that?" Harry stared at him. "She's never that polite to anyone."

"I _am_ her nephew—or did you forget?" He pointed his wand at the tapestry, and Harry noticed Draco's picture on the family tree beneath Lucius and Narcissa.

"Oh, right." Harry shrugged. "What are you doing here, Draco? And why did you snatch me off the street like that?" He took off his jacket and tossed it at the nearest chair. It fell short and landed on the floor in a heap.

"I told you, I wanted to see you." Draco removed his coat and scarf, placing them on the piano.

"Why?"

"Oh, _honestly!_ Did you not receive my missive?"

"The green card?"

"It wasn't blank!"

"I know that. I read it. How was I supposed to respond to that?" Harry raked his fingers through his hair. He turned away from Draco's penetrating gaze. His lips were still tingling from the frenetic snog in the alleyway. "What is it that you want from me, Draco?"

"You. I want _you_ , Harry. I can show you a whole new world of ecstasy. I know you felt that thrill with me. Tell me you haven't thought of my mouth on your prick since you left, and I'll say you're lying." Draco grabbed Harry's arm and forced him to turn and face him. Harry crossed his arms and looked away.

Draco was right, he would be lying if he'd said he hadn't thought about the way the blond had looked at him as he stood against the billiard table wanking off, or the amazing thrill that enveloped him when Draco pinned him to the sofa, grinding him into the cushions, and the overwhelming exhilaration of seeing him kneeling between his legs.

"I shagged Adrestia," he confessed, wondering as he spoke, why he felt compelled in that moment to do so.

"I know." He stepped closer to Harry, tugging at his waistband. "I _did_ send her after all." Harry slapped his hands away.

"Draco—"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Potter! Who _cares!_ I just want a fucking shag! If I have to fucking hex you to get it, I will!" Draco grabbed Harry roughly by his belt, pulling him in and crushing their lips together once more.

Harry pushed at Draco's hands and Draco grabbed his wrists. He forced them behind Harry's back. Harry bit Draco's lip, squirming to wrench his hands free. Draco let out a small cry, and reached up to grab a fistful of Harry's hair, yanking his head back and sucking on the sensitive flesh below his ear. In spite of himself, Harry moaned. He grabbed Draco's hair and pulled him away, wrapping his other hand around his throat. Draco groaned breathlessly, his hand still holding Harry's waistband, and rocked his hips into Harry's.

They continued grappling in this fashion until they found themselves on the floor. Harry gained the upper hand and straddled Draco, pinning his hands beside his head. Draco bucked beneath him, sending a jolt of excitement through Harry's groin. Harry stared down at the blond curiously. He rocked his hips downward impatiently.

"I told you, Potter. It doesn't make me angry, it just gets me hot." Draco's eyelids were already heavy with lust and his breathing was shallow. "Is this what you want?" he challenged.

Harry was silent. His mind and body were at war. He wanted Draco desperately, but he didn't know why. Even though he'd told Dean that he couldn't top, he was somehow afraid to yield control to Draco. Yet, try as he might, Harry couldn't quite grasp the reason why. His attention was snatched back to the present by the sensation of Draco's groin jerking into his again as he spoke.

"Well, _do_ something then!" he goaded. Harry narrowed his eyes, and rolled his hips against Draco's, the texture of denim and corduroy stimulating them both into hardness. Harry drew back then and unbuckled Draco's belt, tugging open his fly and yanking his trousers until his erection bobbed free. He took it in hand, sliding his hand up and down the shaft slowly, eliciting a hungry moan from the Slytherin.

Just as Draco's eyelids began to flutter closed with the pleasure of Harry's firm grip on his manhood, he saw the dark-haired wizard began to move back and lower his head toward his cock.

"No!" Draco exclaimed, shoving him back and tackling Harry to the floor. "No! You don't get to do that!"

"But—" Harry was unable to finish, because Draco had begun to kiss him again. He slid his hand down over Harry's crotch, palming his erection through his jeans. Harry arched up to meet him as he melted into the kiss, his protests dying in his throat.

Reason and lust continued to do battle inside Harry's head as Draco maneuvered them both out of their clothes. He was kissing and sucking on his throat and neck while Harry wriggled and tried to push him away despite his own moans and whimpers. Draco pinned his hands to the floor, holding his wrists together once they were finally naked.

"Stop fighting, dammit!"

Harry let out a huff and stared up at Draco. Silver eyes met emerald and held the gaze. Harry pushed up against Draco, who pushed down, their trapped cocks pulsing against taught abdomens.

"I know you don't trust me, Harry. It doesn't change the fact that you want me. You already told me so. I can't fucking _function_ anymore because of you, and that's interfering in areas of my life that need my complete focus. When you were just an unattainable fantasy, it didn't affect me so much." Draco's voice was soft and throaty with want. He rocked his hips as he spoke, their pricks pulsing against each other. "But then you had to go and show up in my life again. You let me take you home. You let me get you off, restrain you, swallow you whole. Now, it's like we're back in school again, and you're the single-most persistent thought in my head." He raked his nails down Harry's side, drawing a moan from him. "All I want is your undivided attention." He trailed a line of kisses over Harry's jaw. "I want to be the first thought you have every morning." He licked Harry's throat. "And the last thought you have as you fall asleep."

Harry thought to himself that Draco's pronouncement had come to fruition long ago and had recently renewed itself with vigor.

"Say you want me, Harry." Draco reached down and began to stroke Harry's cock.

"Oh!" Harry spluttered, closing his eyes. Draco whispered a lubrication charm and gripped him tightly as he stroked with agonizing slowness.

"Say, 'I want you, Draco.'" His slick fingers worked their way over the head before sliding down again. Harry thrust upward into his hand. " _Restringo!_ " Harry's wrists were tied together with an invisible binding that held them to the floor.

"Wha—" His eyes flew open to Draco capturing his lips again with a deep kiss.

"Just admit it, Potter. You want this. Look at you—skin flushed…" he nibbled on a spot where collarbone met neck. "Pupils blown…" Draco closed his lips over the flesh, sucking on it as he gripped Harry's prick tighter and moved his hand faster.

"Ah! Ohhhh!" Harry groaned.

" _Resigno Apertus!_ " Draco hissed and shuddered.

"Wait—what—what was that?" Harry's pulse quickened. He didn't know that spell. What had Draco done?"

"That wasn't for you," Draco replied, his lips still attacking Harry's neck. "Just say it, Harry. I'm dying here, and you know you want it. You're practically gagging for it!" Draco pushed his knee between Harry's legs, letting his thigh rest against his balls. Persistently frotting, Draco grabbed Harry's hair again, pulling his head to get better access to the spot beneath his ear and set to licking and sucking the hot, flushed skin. Harry growled hungrily, pulling against the magical bonds.

"Shit! Fuck—no—fuck—yes! Mmmm, I want you, Draco!" he relented, arching his back. He felt Draco's lips curve against his skin.

"Oh, Merlin, yes!"

Draco kissed a trail down Harry's chest, flicking his tongue over each blush nipple, and licking over this taut abdomen. Harry moaned and writhed with unrestrained lust. His eyes rolled back in his head when Draco's lips finally closed around his shaft.

"Fuck! Fuck! Merlin and Morganna!" He thrust his hips up, pushing into Draco's mouth and down his throat. "Fuck! Draco! Fuck!" And then the glorious sensation of the Slytherin's lips was gone.

Harry opened his eyes. Draco was over him, looking down with an intoxicated gaze as he reached back and gripped Harry's cock.

"What the—" Harry stopped breathing. His eyes widened in shock as Draco eased himself down on Harry's rock hard erection, biting his lip to stifle a satisfied moan as he took in the Gryffindor. Harry pulled at his bonds.

"Don't move!" Draco hissed, digging his nails into Harry's chest as he clenched around the fullness inside him pressing against his prostate.

Harry whimpered. Then Draco began to move, slowly at first. The sensation was overwhelming—so tight and hot—he wanted to pass out.

"Ohhhhhh!" Harry groaned. "Ohhh! Fucking Godric! Shit!" He tugged again at the invisible bonds as Draco moved faster.

"Shit, Harry! Oh, fuck! Oh, by Nemesis in all of my dreams! Fuck! _Fuck!_ " Draco screamed as he rode Harry's cock, throwing his head back, eyes closed.

" _Goddammit!_ Shit! Fuck! Draco! Fuck!" Harry thrust upward to meet Draco's downward movement. Every inch of his flesh was on fire with excitement. The candles in the sconces flickered wildly as his magic flared. " _Dimiserit Ligature! Illitus Inlitus!_ "

Draco gasped when he felt Harry's slick hand close around his prick.

"You— _fuck!_ You— _oh fuck!_ " Draco couldn't manage the question in his head. "Harry! _Fucking Harry!"_

"Draco! Draco! Oh! Oh!" Harry gripped Draco, tightly, stroking with vigor. He pushed up on his elbow, head back as Draco clenched tightly around him. He wouldn't be able to stand it much longer.

Draco's legs began to quiver as he felt Harry begin to pulse inside him. Harry's grip on his cock was like a vise and he felt himself about to tumble over the edge.

"Shit!"

"Fuck!"

" _Godric!"_

" _Salazar!"_

* * *

Harry was completely unwound and Draco was shattered. He collapsed on top of Harry, clinging to the other wizard's last twitches of orgasm inside him.

"Merlin, Potter!" He slid away from him and lay beside him on the antique silk rug. He reached to lay a hand on Harry's shoulder, but the dark-haired wizard, turned away from him.

"You are an unbelievably selfish bitch," he muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Draco scoffed indignantly. "Bitch—maybe, but _selfish?_ I think not."

"Really? 'Oh, for fuck's sake, Potter! Who _cares!_ I just want a fucking shag! If I have to fucking hex you to get it, I will!' I'm not some fucking rent-boy, Draco!" Harry sat up and leaned against the sofa, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.

"No, but you _are_ acting like a pissy-arsed, fucking queen!" Draco rolled onto his elbow and fixed Harry with an impatient frown. "Why do you think I have some ulterior motive here?"

"I'm sorry? Where were _you_ from 1991 to 1998?"

"The same _fucking_ place you were, Harry Potter! Mad with jealousy and unresolved sexual tension! Hoping with everything that I had that you would actually notice _Draco,_ not just sodding _Malfoy!_ If anyone's selfish, it's _you_ , Harry! You'd think a sodding legilimens would have realized in all that time! All of the mocking, the provocation—it was just to get your attention—to get you to see _me!_ Then the goddamned war became all too real, and any possibility of you seeing my true feelings died on that _motherfucking_ bathroom floor!" Draco sat up against the opposite couch. "I _lied_ for you, Harry! _I_ _gave you my wand!_ "

Harry felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. His mind suddenly reeled to the past, and the image of Draco pretending not to recognize him…Draco letting go of the wands in his hand just before they escaped Malfoy Manor, came to the fore of his mind. It was replaced by the moment he realized that Snape hadn't won the Elder Wand, but that it had fallen to Draco, who'd lost his hawthorn wand to Harry. The Slytherin had risked everything for the Gryffindor in a most monumental way.

He shook off the dark images of the war and looked at Draco. His eyes were brimming with tears as he glowered at Harry.

"I just can't sort this, Draco. What just happened…I—I wasn't ready for that. I don't—I'm not accustomed to anyone—Merlin, I can't even form a coherent thought!" he muttered, and then heaved a sigh. "People _use_ me, Draco. People always use me to get what they want, or to save them, or make them feel better. The ones who don't—they get hurt because of me…or they die. I'd think you, of all people, could appreciate why I have trust issues."

Harry winced. He hoped Draco didn't take it in the way that it came out. Draco sat, still staring at Harry, his chin on his knee. Harry had the urge to go to him. He couldn't stand to look at the watery grey eyes much longer. They reminded him too much of the cold, hopeless days he'd spent searching for horcruxes.

"I don't know what I'm doing here, Draco." Harry raked his fingers through his hair. Suddenly, Draco was upon him again. Harry gulped when he pushed his knees down and climbed into his lap.

"For that happiness the two cannot find with the other they will find, one in blind obedience, the other in the most energetic expression of his domination." Draco fisted Harry's hair and pulled his head back, brushing his lips over his jaw. "I'll take you any way you'll let me have you." He released Harry's hair and gently trailed his fine fingers over his face.


	11. Tarts and Lemons

"You've been here before—Number Twelve," said Harry. They had moved downstairs to the kitchen where they discovered a treacle tart that Kreacher had just finished baking.

"Why do you say that?" Draco sat down at the long wooden table.

"I just realized that you seem completely familiar with the place." Harry indicated the dishes that Draco had just retrieved from the cupboard and placed on the table, without so much as a hesitation about where they may be located.

"Mother brought me along a few times when I was young."

"Of course. So, had you not seen me on the street, were you planning to just walk up to the door and ring the bell?" Harry served up the tart with a dollop of cream for each of them.

"I wasn't certain if the wards would recognize me. I was still working out what my plan would be if the house didn't reveal itself." Draco took a bite of the tart.

"Never figured you for a sappy romantic, Malfoy. Are you really only in London to see me?" Harry asked, slathering his cream over the tart.

"Must you eat like a philistine?" Draco turned up his nose.

"It's my house. Don't like it? You know where to find the door." Harry shoved a large spoonful of tart into his mouth. Draco rolled his eyes.

"You didn't answer my question," Harry said, licking his lips. Draco's eyes followed the motion of his tongue, and parted his lips as if to capture it in his own. "Oi! What are you, imperioused?" Harry snapped his fingers.

"What?" Draco asked irritably.

"Did you really only come here to see me?" Harry asked again.

"You still don't trust my motives?"

"It's not that. I just realized that you kitted out in muggle clothes, and stood in a muggle street waiting for me to appear. I hadn't thought America had changed you that much—you're wearing jeans!"

"And?" Draco gave him a defiant look.

"Well, I'd have thought you would be concerned about someone recognizing you."

"Who do _I_ know who would be caught _dead_ in a muggle street, Potter?"

"I just let you ride my dick like a fucking hobby horse. The least you could do is call me by my given name, _Draco._ "

"Fine, _Harry._ That doesn't change my point. Besides, did you recognize me at first?"

"No. You do have a point. The disguise was pretty good from a distance, but an experienced Auror would tell you that a well-cast glamour is essential in the absence of polyjuice. One can't rely on one's quarry to remain at a distance."

"I suppose it's a good thing that I'm not an Auror then, isn't it?"

"Given your shitty breaking-and-entering abilities." Harry licked his spoon, raising a brow. Draco's hand tightened around his spoon.

"Never trust a common stick-up bloke with a precision theft," Draco muttered. "Tia could have done that job with her eyes closed."

"I _knew_ you did it!" Harry exclaimed, giving him a smug look.

"You going to arrest me now?"

"First, I told you that I wouldn't stitch you up if you helped me. Second, it's out of my jurisdiction. But I'm wondering if you'd done your homework on that. Didn't you know the paintings belonged to a cop?"

"No they didn't." Draco dipped his spoon into the cream on his plate and licked it off. Harry's eyes flickered to the motion before he returned his gaze to Draco's eyes.

"Didn't they?" Harry's gaze was challenging.

"How did _you_ find out about the paintings in the first place, Harry?" Draco eyed him suspiciously.

"A series of unfortunate events. There was a pub fight. One of the combatants assaulted a cop. When he was arrested and subsequently searched, the police found his wand. Turns out that a wand had been found at the scene of a high-profile heist not long ago. The cop who was assaulted actually initiated the pub fight when he accused the owner of the pawn shop of stealing the paintings when he was unable to return them to said cop."

"But the pawn shop is muggle-owned."

"Yes. However, unbeknownst to him, the owner has a relative who is a wizard."

"And _you_ just happen to know this wizard?" Draco looked at him skeptically.

"Yes, we do."

" _We_ do?"

"And you say that _I'm_ thick, Draco. What's the pawn shop owner's name?"

"I don't know! Something Irish, I think. Everyone in that sodding town is named O'Malley or—" Draco's eyes widened in surprise. " _Finnegan?_ "

"Two points to Slytherin." Harry smirked.

" _Only two?_ "

"You left the country to become a thief, Draco?" Harry gave him a disapproving look.

"So, occasionally, I find myself in the employ of nefarious individuals from muggle society." He shrugged. "The way I see it, if I happen to liberate them of a few ill-gotten gains, who does it really hurt?"

"Where should I begin?" Harry lifted his hand to tick off the effects of crime on society.

"Oh, spare me your Granger-esque indignation, Harry! You of all people should know how I was raised. Lucius taught me one thing above all else—the rich and powerful take what they want. _My_ associates and I are in the business of restoring the balance of power to the advantage of the powerless. The Horned Serpent happens to be a perfect medium for creating that necessary leverage. After all, I helped you straighten out Finnegan's situation, did I not?"

Harry pursed his lips. He couldn't argue with that logic. Still, this confession placed their relationship—or situation—whatever it was that he hadn't yet figured out—into a whole new light.

"Speaking of Lucius," Harry changed the subject. "I ran into him the other day." He noticed Draco stiffen slightly.

"Did you?" he recovered, helping himself to more tart.

"For a brief second, I thought he was you, until I turned around."

Draco snorted. "I'm certain he was thrilled to see you." He placed a large scoop of cream on his tart, spooning it up and slowly removing the spoon from his mouth.

"Well, he was his usual supercilious self. However, when I said I'd thought him to be you, he seemed rather anxious to know if I had been in contact with you." Draco set his spoon down with a clatter.

"You didn't tell him where I was, did you?"

"Of course not. I didn't even let on that I'd seen you. He said that your mother was worried about you, and when that didn't sway me, he attempted to intimidate the information from me. I told him that I assumed if you wanted him to know your whereabouts, you would divulge them yourself."

"I appreciate that, Harry."

"Why don't you—" A soft gong sounded before he could finish, and Harry's head whipped around. "Shit! The Floo!" he groaned.

"Harry! You there, mate?"

"Ron!" Harry whispered. "He has floo permission."

Draco's expression flashed with panic before settling into a scowl.

"Yeah! I'm coming, mate!" Harry pushed back his chair.

"Is that treacle tart I smell?" Ron's voice was closer and they could hear his footsteps as he descended the stairs.

"Oh, fuck all!" Draco exclaimed. He stood and turned.

"No! Wait!" Harry reached out, but he was gone with a pop. "Dammit!"

* * *

"I thought maybe you'd done a runner again," said Ron as he threw open the kitchen door. Harry flicked his wand and vanished Draco's plate and spoon.

"No, just brooding over tart. What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Mum says you have to come to dinner tonight and to bring Dean and Seamus." Ron fell into Draco's chair and pulled Harry's plate over, helping himself to a slice of tart.

"So, she got the packages then?" Harry dragged the plate back across the table, summoning a clean one for Ron.

"Yeah, and _you_ very nearly got hexed!" Ron rolled his eyes and took another slice of tart, this one larger than Harry's original serving.

"Hexed? Why? Didn't she like the gifts?"

"What do you think my first thought was when I saw my mother sobbing at the kitchen table, holding a note that said 'Sorry'?"

Harry winced. "You were really going to hex me?"

"Punch you in the face, more like it." Ron shoveled tart into his mouth. "The picture was brilliant mate. Don't tell 'Mione, but even I cried a bit when I saw it."

"Oh, gee. I—that wasn't my intent."

"We know, Harry. It was just so…unexpected. Dean is really good, yeah?"

"He is. I certainly couldn't have drawn anything that well."

"So, besides shopping for matronly witches, what else have you been up to?" Ron asked. He eyed the last piece of tart. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh, go on." Ron happily scooped a pile of cream over it and gave Harry an expectant look as he plunged in. "Oh, you know, this and that." Harry replied noncommittally.

"So, sulking around here eating treacle tart, then?"

"Yeah, sure." Harry shrugged, scratching his neck. "I thought I might sort out the back garden for the spring. It looks like there might be an aviary in the far corner that needs refurbishing, and I've been meaning to buy another owl. I was in Eyelops the other—" He realized that Ron was staring at him, spoon halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"What…the… _hell_ …is…that?" Ron stressed each word. Harry gave him a bemused look.

"What is what?" He looked down at his shirt, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, and looked back at Ron in confusion. Suddenly, the red-haired Gryffindor shoved his plate out of the way and lunged across the table, grabbing Harry's collar.

" _That!"_ He snarled. "Is that a fucking love-bite?" Ron summoned a silver tray from the sideboard and shoved it in Harry's face. Harry's jaw dropped in horror. He'd forgotten all about Draco's insistent torture along his neck until he saw the bright red mark blooming just under his jaw and another peeking out of his shirt along his collarbone. He closed his eyes and sank back into his chair.

"Shit."

"You _said_ there wasn't anybody else, Harry!" Ron pounded his fist on the table.

"There _wasn't,_ Ron! I'd never cheat on Ginny!"

"Then what's this? Somebody new already? Is she here now?"

"Ron! There _isn't_ a new woman! Do you think I'd be daft enough to leave the floo open if I had someone here?" he lied. Ron continued to glare at him. "Fine, if you must know, I was feeling kind of low, so I went out to a muggle club. I met a woman and went home with her. I was drunk. I didn't realize we'd gotten so out of hand." Harry glared back, defiantly.

"How could you, Harry?"

"I'm supposed to sit in the dark and pine after Ginny like Cadmus Peverell? How is that fair, Ron? Is she at the Burrow crying over _me_?"

Ron slumped back in his chair, the fight seeping out of him.

"Don't make this about _us,_ Ron. It's not. Ginny and I aren't together. That doesn't mean it's the end of our friendship. I hope it doesn't. I don't exactly have a premium on true friends you know."

"Sorry, Harry. I'm trying. This would be so much easier if you weren't my best mate."

"I get it. It's fine. I'd probably be the same way if you and Hermione were to ever split up."

"Just so long as she didn't set birds upon me again!" Ron grimaced. Harry laughed.

"What time is dinner?"

"Half seven."

"Fine, I'll fire-call Dean and Seamus and see if they can make it."

"I'll let Mum know." Ron stood. "See you then."

* * *

When Ron left, Harry sent the empty dishes to the sink for Kreacher. He fire-called Dean and Seamus, who said they'd meet him at the Burrow, and then made his way upstairs to the suite that had once belonged to his godfather. He flicked his wand as he entered the room, and the shower came to life in the en suite bathroom. Harry removed his clothes and studied his naked body in the mirror on the wardrobe.

He considered himself fortunate that Ron had only seen his neck. There were angry red scratches down the left side of his torso, neat little half-moon marks dotted his chest where Draco had sunk his nails in, and faint marks about his wrists where they'd been bound together.

"Thank Merlin for long sleeves!" Harry muttered.

He strolled into the bathroom and stuck his hand under the spray in the large shower. The water was just the right temperature, and the steam fogged his glasses. He removed them, setting them on the sink before he stepped in. The warm water pelting his skin felt rejuvenating and Harry closed his eyes as he let it wash over him. He thought of Draco's sudden arrival and the unexpected revelations he'd made.

That Draco held deep feelings for him was a surprise, but Harry didn't know how to reconcile his own emotions toward the Slytherin with what he'd confessed about his activities in Boston. As he turned these thoughts over in his head, the image of their intense sexual encounter reared itself to the forefront of Harry's mind. He'd actually shagged Draco on the floor of his drawing room! If only Ron hadn't showed up when he did!

"Dammit, Draco, why didn't you wait!" he groused.

"Couldn't get enough of it, could you?"

"Shit!" Harry cursed. He jumped, slipping on the wet tile as a warm, wet body pressed against his, a hand reaching down to cup his balls. Draco dropped his disillusionment charm, catching Harry about the waist. "What the fuck?" Harry swore.

"Merlin! I thought the ginger weasel would never leave!" he exclaimed, pushing Harry against the wall, and grinding against him, his hard prick sliding up and down along the cleft of Harry's ass.

"Don't call him that!" Harry snapped. "I thought you'd gone," he said in a calmer tone.

"And miss round two?" Draco scraped his teeth over Harry's shoulder.

"He saw the love bites on my neck."

"Ooh! Yummy!"

"No! He was in a right strop!" Harry tried to turn around, but Draco pushed harder against him, grabbing his hair.

"Well, good for the Weasel. Meantime, I'm on one here, and I don't give a _fuck_ if Weaselby threw a benny because you got a bit of lemon!" Draco rutted hard against Harry and slapped his ass. Harry let out a yelp.

"Shit!"

"Shut it!" Draco hit him again. "Always whinging instead of fucking! Now, don't move, don't talk. _Don't_ make a sound!"

Draco kissed down Harry's spine as he raked his nails over his back. Harry bit his lip and pressed his head against the wet tile. Draco slid his tongue down the cleft of his ass and Harry drew in a sharp breath, pushing his ass back. Draco slapped it again. He scraped his teeth over the red handprint blooming on his pale flesh.

Harry was breathing heavily, his cock once again aching for touch as it bobbed up towards his stomach. Draco placed a hand on each cheek and spread them apart. Harry looked back in surprise.

"Eyes front!" Draco snapped. "Fuck, that bloom is gorgeous!" he swore.

Harry swallowed hard and closed his eyes, goosebumps prickling his flesh despite the endless rush of warm water that flowed over them. Draco flicked his tongue over his opening and Harry suppressed a shudder.

"Don't move," Draco sang. He pressed his face into Harry's ass and licked around the rim, pushing against him as Harry tensed, clenching the tip of his tongue and drawing it in just slightly. "Mmmmm!" Draco moaned.

He reached up and rubbed his thumb around it, pressing ever so slightly. Harry was panting now. His knees were weak with nervousness and excitement.

"Oh, fuck!" he whimpered softly. Draco released him and rocked back on his heels.

"You see! That's why you were such shit at potions, Potter." Draco stood, fisting Harry's hair once more. "Inability-to-follow-basic-instructions." He punctuated each word with a stinging slap to the ass. "Turn around!"

He smiled at the dazed and lustful expression on Harry's face and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for a frenzied kiss.

"Such a lovely bitch!" he murmured into Harry's mouth. Harry grabbed his hair and pulled him away.

"Don't fucking call me a bitch!" he glared. Draco snorted, and bit Harry's lip.

"You liked it!" he teased, reaching for Harry's dick. Harry batted his hand away, shoving Draco roughly against the shower wall. He jerked his hips roughly against Draco's ass. "Yes, please!" Draco laughed, pushing his ass out.

Harry hesitated and let out an impatient huff. What was he doing?

"Domination or blind obedience, Harry." Draco looked back at him over his shoulder. "Fuck me, Harry!" His voice was low and rough. " _Now!_ "

Harry slid his prick into Draco's surprisingly pliant ass. Draco let out a guttural moan and tightened around him. Harry held his hips and pressed deeper, cursing as Draco gripped him.

"Shit!"

Draco growled and pushed back against him. Harry slid back and dug his fingertips into Draco's hips, leaning back for leverage and slammed hard and deep.

"Fuck!" Draco cried. "Oh, fuck! Aah!" Intelligible speech left him.

Harry fucked him viciously, throwing his weight into each thrust. He wrapped Draco's long hair around his fist as he continued to hold his hip in a bruising grasp with one hand, grunting breathlessly with each stroke.

"Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fucking shit! Fuck!" Draco swore, bracing against the wall with one hand to keep his face from smashing into it, while he stroked his prick with the other.

The mirror over the sink cracked from one side to the other and the water temperature in the shower spiked as the two wizards' magic swelled with their unbridled passion. Draco let out an unearthly howl, not unlike that of a werewolf and Harry wailed incoherently as they shattered with orgasm at the same moment. Harry clung to Draco as they slid to the floor, Harry still inside him as Draco sat on his lap.

"Merlin and Salazar, Harry!" Draco whimpered, easing off of Harry and turning to face him. He slumped against the wall, pushing his wet hair from his face. "I don't want to go."

"Then don't," Harry replied, turning his face upward into the spray.

"I have to. I can't stay here." Draco trailed his fingers over Harry's. "Come back to Boston."

"I don't know. There's still much I need to figure out," Harry said. He pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and turned off the water, turning to offer Draco a hand. Harry frowned, noticing how the blond winced as he stood.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Draco stepped gingerly out of the shower, casting a drying spell as he went. Harry followed him into the bedroom, still dripping. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Potter!" Draco snorted with exasperation when he saw him trailing puddles of water in his wake. He flicked his wand at Harry and cast another drying spell.

"Draco."

"What?" he replied irritably, pulling on his pants and trousers. Harry wondered how he hadn't noticed the neatly folded pile of clothes on his dresser when he first entered the room. He turned his focus back to Draco.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing. Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" He pulled his jumper over his head.

"So, that's what we're doing now? Really? What do you want me to say, Draco? You showed up out of nowhere and practically forced yourself on me. Then after I let you shag me silly—which I've _never done before,_ I might add—you pour out your heart and soul like a broken horcrux, before you ambush me again! I told you that I need some fucking time! What's wrong with that?" Harry took a breath and calmed himself, lowering his voice. He approached the bed, where Draco sat, lacing up his boots. He sat down and touched his arm. "Are you even listening to me?"

"I am." Draco pulled the laces of his boot tightly. He frowned at the floor as he put his foot down. Finally he turned to Harry, pushing him back on the bed and climbing on top of him. "I'll wait, and if I have to, I'll come and take you." He brushed his lips over Harry's. "Remove the blood wards. You don't want Lucius to have access to your home."

* * *

Harry was late arriving to The Burrow for dinner. He'd had to make a few important stops, but he was certain that Molly and Arthur would understand.

"Oh, _there_ you are!" Molly exclaimed, enveloping him in her smothering embrace as always. Harry struggled to hold on to the packages he'd brought, as he hugged her back.

"Sorry I'm late, Molly. I realized that I had to see to an important matter," he apologized.

"Don't tell me those packages are for me! It's too much!" she declared, her hand fluttering to the locket around her neck as they moved into the living room where Ron, Arthur and George were seated with Dean and Seamus discussing the current Quidditch season. Hermione wandered in from the kitchen where she'd been helping Molly set the table.

"No, I realized that there was someone else to whom I owed an apology. Arthur," Harry passed the packages to Molly's husband. "These are for you."

"Oh, Harry, you shouldn't have!" Arthur Weasley accepted the wrapped items with delight. He opened the large box first, to discover a fine gentleman's travelling cloak of camel hair with an elaborate filigree clasp.

"We can't have you withering in the radiance of Molly's new threads, now can we?" He handed Arthur a second box. This one was significantly smaller.

There was a chorus of _Ahhhs_ around the room when Arthur opened it and lifted out the gold pocket watch. The outer case was engraved with a weasel perched upon a W. Arthur blinked back a tear at the corner of his eye when he opened the case and read the inscription.

 _For my Second Father, from your Seventh Son_

Arthur cleared his throat and stood. "I, erm—" he faltered, then pulled Harry into a tight hug, sniffling into his shoulder before composing himself and clapping him on the back.

"Thanks a lot, mate!" George ribbed Harry once he and Arthur broke their embrace. "They'll never get that emotional again, unless Charlie ever decides to get married!"

They all laughed and Molly announced that dinner was on the table. She carefully hung Arthur's cloak beside her own as everyone made their way to the kitchen. Dean laid a hand on Harry's shoulder as they took their places around the table.

"You're looking _thoroughly_ shagged," he whispered. "Something we should know?"

"Maybe."

"Do tell!"

"Later."

Dinner was a cozy affair, filled with the familiar sounds and smells of family and a home cooked meal made with love. Conversation drifted from sports to work, which predictably led to light banter about current politics. Seamus and Dean excitedly shared their plans to open a nightclub near Diagon Alley, and their anticipation of their loan to be approved to purchase the building.

Molly wanted to know when everyone planned to settle down and get married, giving Hermione and Ron a pointed look. George shifted the subject with the announcement that he'd followed through with the plans he and Fred had made to purchase Zonko's Joke Shop in Hogsmeade and expand his business. His younger brother gave him a grateful look, and Harry released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Had she been allowed to continue, the discussion would have inevitably found its way around to the demise of his and Ginny's relationship.

* * *

It was late when dinner was finally over, but Harry accepted Dean and Seamus' invitation to join them for a nightcap. They apparated into the city and went to a muggle cocktail club in Chinatown.

"Alright, _spill!_ " Dean demanded the moment they sat down. "We know it wasn't Ginny, as she was conspicuously absent from dinner tonight. So, who was she?"

Harry pursed his lips sheepishly.

"It wasn't a _she?"_ Seamus asked incredulously. "Oh, clutch me pearls! Who was _he?_ "

The couple leaned in eagerly. Harry scratched his neck, looking away.

" _Get out!_ " Seamus reached across the table and tugged at his collar. "He's wearin' a _glamour!_ Why _Harry Potter!_ "

"Someone's been naughty!" Dean slapped the table. "Out with it!"

"It was Draco," Harry shrugged shamefacedly, his face red.

"You _can't be serious!_ How exactly did this happen?"

"Well, he sort of ambushed me on the street," he replied.

"You kinky little slut!" Dean teased.

"Oh, sod off, Dean! We didn't _do_ it on the street. Though, not because he didn't try." Harry muttered. "He followed me from the newsstand."

"What's he doin' in London?" Seamus asked.

"Looking for me."

"Mmmmmm! He is _after_ you!"

"Tell me about it." Harry grumbled. The waiter brought a bottle of wine to the table and uncorked it. They all took a few sips of the chardonnay before anyone spoke again.

"Alright, so Malfoy came all the way back to London, just to see you. What happened?"

"Well, like I said, he ambushed me on the street, quite literally. I damned near cursed him before I recognized it was him. He would happily have ravished me right there in the alley he'd snatched me into, but I took him back to Number Twelve, where—well, he pretty much threw me down and rode my cock like a fucking pogo stick." Dean and Seamus let out scandalized gasps. "Then Ron showed up and—"

"Wait—what?" Dean interrupted. "Ron _knows?_ He seemed awfully calm about it all."

"He didn't know Draco was there. He disapparated from the kitchen the moment we heard Ron coming out of the floo. But Ron saw the love bites and flew off the handle. I lied and told him I'd met some muggle girl at a club last night. After I fire-called you guys to tell you about dinner, I went upstairs and Draco was waiting disillusioned in my room, and snuck into the shower with me."

"Wait—so he's not at your place now, is he?" Seamus asked.

"No, he's gone." Harry toyed with the stem of his wine glass. "He wanted me to come back to Boston with him."

"And?"

"What do you mean, ' _and'_?"

"What are you going to do?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. I still don't know what I want. I don't know how I feel about my sexuality, whether I'm really into BDSM, or kink, or whatever. And then there's the whole thing about him being a grifter and a thief."

"What?"

"How do you think he got the paintings back? It's what he does—using his club—he's got a high stakes racket going. He claims to only take unscrupulous individuals and organizations, but—" Harry sighed. "I can't do this. Things were supposed to get easier now that the war is over. How is it I'm still tangled up with Malfoy, and the shit is more complicated than ever?" he sipped his wine.

"You can always walk away, mate" Seamus reached out and took Harry's hand.

"Can I? We've had a proper shag now, and—I don't know. Something else has passed between us. It's been buried awhile, and I can't quite put my finger on it, but I don't think he's going to let me go that easily." Dean and Seamus exchanged a look as he spoke. "What?"

"We talked about this, Harry—your lack of judgement when it comes to Malfoy."

"What? I—"

"Did you even hear yourself? He _stalked_ you, Harry!"

"Well—"

"And what did _you_ do? Ye took him home with ye!"

"Okay! I get it! I do. It's a bad idea. I shouldn't have done it." Harry emptied his glass and set it down firmly. Dean took Harry's hand.

"Harry, this isn't the war, but poor decision-making in this lifestyle can still get you seriously injured or even killed. We're not trying to tell you what to do, but whatever you do, you have to go into it with a clear head." He squeezed Harry's hand. Harry nodded grudgingly.

"I understand. I will. Thanks guys." They ordered another round and talk moved to other topics before they finally said their goodbyes. Dean and Seamus headed up the street hand-in-hand. Harry slipped into the gents and disapparated.

He trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, and grumpily fell onto the bed. The scent of sandalwood wafted into his nostrils as he buried his face into the pillow.

"Merlin, what you do to me!" he murmured, closing his eyes to lose himself in the images of silver eyes and treacle tart.


	12. What Are You Looking For?

Draco opened the latch of the elaborate custom habitat that filled the room, and reached in for the mustelid perched on the nearest landing. The ferret scrambled over his arm and settled on Draco's shoulder.

"Hello, Moody, my friend." He stroked the animal's head and wrinkled his nose. "It's a bit rank in here, don't you think? Tsk. Your housekeeping skills are quite atrocious." He waved his wand, vanishing the ferret's old bedding and detritus. "Let's go get you fed, shall we?"

He held the ferret over his forearm as he descended the stairs to the kitchen.

"Tia, my love! Are you there?" he called out. "Oh, you are home," he said as he entered the kitchen to find Adrestia at the counter placing basil leaves over slices of Roma tomato and mozzarella as she prepared a panini sandwich. He moved to her side and leaned in for a kiss, placing a restraining hand on Moody, to keep the ferret from leaping into the food preparation on the counter. Adrestia turned her head. "What's all this?" he gave her hair a tug. She said nothing, only flicked her eyes across the kitchen as she opened the panini press and removed a hot sandwich before placing the one she'd just prepared onto the grill.

"Pravus." Draco looked up at the voice coming from across the room and noticed for the first time that they were not alone.

"Paellax. When did you get here?" he asked the man sitting at the table.

"Just this morning. I must have missed you. Thank you, love." He accepted the sandwich that Adrestia placed in front of him along with a glass of ginger ale. Draco carefully sat down at the table across from him. "Well, well, well! Does that mean you were _finally_ successful in bedding the Boy-Who-Lived?" he took a bite of his sandwich.

Draco stroked Moody's head. He looked over his shoulder at Adrestia. She sat at the counter with her back turned, flipping through a magazine. He turned back to his partner.

"We had an…encounter."

"An encounter? Don't play coy with me right now, my friend. Just say you had a proper shag." He took a bite of his sandwich.

"What are you angry with me for? Jealous?" Draco arched a brow. The other man scoffed.

"Hardly. You know I'm not bent."

"And yet, you shagged _me_."

"That was different."

"How?"

"You asked me to—practically _begged_ , more like it," he replied wiping his fingers on a napkin.

"Then why all this attitude, and what's wrong with Adrestia?"

"I thought we _agreed_ about the absinthe. You know, that it is not for us."

"Tia seems to have no trouble consuming it," Draco replied. The other man sighed and waved his wand to cast a privacy spell.

"Merlin, what is wrong with you? First of all, Adrestia drinks Sazerac—the absinthe is just a wash for the glass. And how can you even throw her name into this discussion in such a way after what you did to her?"

"I apologized already! Why is everyone upset about a little absinthe hallucination?"

"A _little_ absinthe hallucination, Pravus? Fortunately, you passed out before you could follow through, but you left her under a fucking Freezing Charm! Isn't it your good luck that she can perform nonverbal spells?" The other wizard glared at him angrily. Draco sat back, dumbfounded.

"I—" he turned back to Adrestia. She was quietly eating her sandwich, but he could see the tension in her shoulders from where he sat. Draco placed Moody on the floor and removed the privacy spell. "Is that why you won't speak to me? The absinthe? It's not because of Harry?" He heard her sigh.

"The world doesn't revolve around Harry Potter, you know." She turned to face him. "May I speak freely, sir?"

"Please do." She slid from her barstool and moved to stand in front of the table where the two men sat.

"Harry seems like a nice guy—he's got an amazing dick and knows what to do with it!" she smirked. "But if he's going to fuck with your head to the point that you're turning to the green fairy, that's a problem. You see how Brian nearly ruined the job with the safety deposit boxes, and how he totally botched the situation with the paintings? It's the same thing. Sir, Master Paellax, we can't do what we do if our mind isn't totally focused on the task at hand. I'm only saying you need to either consummate this thing with him, or let him go."

Draco sat back and let out a sigh. They were right. He was becoming reckless all because he couldn't shake off his obsessive thoughts about Harry. He was so accustomed to simply getting his way with everything. Yet, he seemed to have forgotten that nothing was ever easy when it came to Harry Potter.

"I understand."

"Good. However, Pravus…you know that you _will_ have to _atone_ for your mistakes."

* * *

Harry sat down heavily on the garden steps outside of the library at twelve Grimmauld Place. He removed the lightweight jumper he wore and swiped a grimy hand across his brow. Despite a comfortable temperature of ten degrees, he'd worked up a sweat clearing the overgrown courtyard and garden. Even with the use of magic, it had taken him the better part of the morning to remove the ivy that had wound its way over nearly every surface like Devil's Snare. He sipped the water that Kreacher had brought him and surveyed the space, delighted at the discoveries he'd made beneath the parasitic greenery.

A modest stone fountain sat in the center of the courtyard. It was topped with a gilded mermaid holding a conch shell which poured the water over three tiers and into the lowest basin. In the southeast corner of the garden, Harry had been nearly overcome by the powerful scent of the Flutterby bush that had managed to flourish beneath the creepers. The fluttering flowers were in full bloom and their overwhelming scent of sandalwood nearly drowned Harry in a panic attack sparked by powerful and unbidden memories and fantasies of Draco. Fortunately, Kreacher had arrived just then with refreshment, and pulled him out of range of the plant's scent. With the elf's help, he was able to calmly prune the bushes to a manageable size, immediately vanishing the fragrant clippings.

Harry looked away from the quivering bush to the southwest corner of the lawn where the aviary stood, looking frightfully neglected and ready to collapse now that the ivy had been removed. He studied the ornate scrollwork that formed the dome of the bird sanctuary, and the arched openings around the top of the structure's walls. Behind it, thick vines of Japanese wisteria climbed the back wall of the garden. Harry figured that he would take care of that before lunch and call it a day. He would worry about the structural repair the next day. He turned up his glass and emptied it, picking up his wand as he stood.

There were only a few feet of space between the back of the aviary and the garden wall. Harry pointed his wand at the thick, ropelike vines near the base of the wall.

" _Perputo!"_ He flicked his wand in a diagonal slashing motion and the vines began to draw back into themselves, reshaping against the wall. In the shadow of the overhanging plant, Harry could just make out an object that was nearly overtaken by the invasive vine. He cast the pruning spell again and pushed his way into the narrow space. As the vines drew back, Harry recognized a large, spoked wheel and drew in a breath. He tugged on the wheel as he continued magically pruning the plant until the machine was free.

"Merlin's broom!" he murmured. Harry dragged the motorbike out into the open garden. It wasn't the same bike that his godfather had given to Hagrid. That one currently lay in pieces in Arthur's shed at The Burrow. Still, he knew without a doubt that this bike could only have belonged to Sirius. He ran his fingers over the torn leather seat and used his hand to brush away some of the grime coating the tank, revealing a two toned paint detail in scarlet and gold. Harry simply stood staring at the motorbike in awe.

He could still hear the roar of the engine that had lulled him to sleep on the night his parents were killed, and the rush of sound and wind in his ears as he and Hagrid left Privet Drive for the last time, just over two years ago. Since the end of the war, he'd considered collecting the remains of Sirius' bike in order to repair it, but each time he thought to ask Arthur about it, something inside his chest tightened, and he couldn't get the words out to make the request. He was still standing before the bike when Kreacher appeared in the garden with a fresh glass of water.

"Kreacher sees Master Harry has found Master Sirius' motorbike." Harry nodded, accepting the glass of water. "Mistress was most distressed when Master Sirius brought it home. The noise that it made!" Harry chuckled softly.

"I wonder why he left it here," Harry mused.

"Master Sirius hid the motorbike from his parents when he left home. He wanted to retrieve it, but he was forbidden to return to the house."

"That must be why he got the other one." Harry sipped the water thoughtfully.

"Would Master Harry like to eat lunch in the garden?"

"No, Kreacher." Harry finally shook off his deep reverie. "The kitchen is fine."

Although from the basement kitchen all he could discern were the wire-spoked tires of the bike, Harry stared up at the high windows above the kitchen sink as he washed his hands, as if afraid it was all a vision and the motorbike would disappear.

"It'd probably look amazing all cleaned up! I wonder if it works." he murmured to himself, reaching for a towel.

Kreacher set a platter of pork pies and a large tossed salad on the table and disappeared. Harry reluctantly tore himself away from the window and took a seat, pulling the plate over. He was on his second pie when Ron sauntered into the kitchen.

"Merlin, man! You're filthy!" Ron exclaimed. "What have you been up to?"

"I did tell you that I was going to clear the garden. It's quite nice now that all of the ivy has been cut back. You wouldn't believe all that I managed to find underneath the foliage."

"The petrified skeletons of the Black family's muggleborn enemies?" Ron chortled. He snagged a pork pie and took a bite. Harry rolled his eyes and summoned a plate and fork from the cupboard.

"Don't be such a philistine, mate."

"Gee whiz! You sound like Malfoy. When did you get so poncey?" Ron teased.

"I'm not _poncey!_ " Harry huffed indignantly. "I can't believe you compared me to Malfoy!"

"Well, you were being a bit fastidious, mate. Though sitting there in that shirt, rather begs the question doesn't it?" Ron chuckled. "Okay, I'm sorry. What magical treasures did you find in the greenery of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black? Did you find an aviary?"

"Oh, yeah." Harry's eyes lit up suddenly. "But wait until you see what I found _behind_ the aviary!" he exclaimed, leaping from his seat. Ron followed reluctantly curious.

"Harry, I swear, if you're dragging me out here to look at an infestation of flitterbies, I'm going to send you a—" Ron stopped short as if he'd been immobilized the moment they stepped out of the library.

"I knew you wouldn't bel—" Harry too found himself at a sudden loss for words.

Instead of the grimy abandoned vehicle that he'd left in the garden before lunch, they found a shining, pristine machine, gleaming like new in the afternoon sun. Kreacher peeked over the top of the newly polished motorbike.

"Kreacher, you did this?" Harry asked with astonishment?

"Master Harry said he wanted it cleaned up. Master Harry would like to ride it maybe?" Kreacher snapped his fingers and the bike roared to life.

"Merlin! That's brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

"Amazing!" Harry declared. "Thanks, Kreacher!" The elf snapped his fingers again, and the black leather jacket that Harry had cherished appeared in his hand. He held it out to his master. Harry looked at Ron, who gave him an enthusiastic and encouraging nod. He slipped the jacket on and straddled the bike. The vibration between his legs sent a thrill up his spine, reminding him of the first time he'd ridden a broom. He revved the engine and disengaged the kickstand. The bike lurched forward, and he pointed his wand at the garden gate, roaring into the narrow alleyway behind the row of houses.

Harry let out a whoop as he sped down the backstreet. It had been quite some time since he'd even been on his broom, and the feel of his hair blowing in the wind was exhilarating. He turned the bike around and returned to the house, coming to a stop at the foot of the garden steps, where Ron stood waiting, a look of wonder and mild envy on his face.

"Wanna give it a go?" Harry asked.

"Ah, mate! It's not a broom." Ron shook his head, but Harry noticed the wistful expression on his face.

"Hop on!"

"I don't know." Ron still looked somewhat reluctant.

"Oh, c'mon, mate! I'll give you a lift back to work!" Ron pursed his lips for a moment before relenting, and climbing onto the bike behind Harry.

"Mum and 'Mione are gonna kill me," he muttered, placing his hands on Harry's waist. Harry laughed and took off, the front wheel lifting from the ground as they started forward. Ron let out a girlish shriek and wrapped his arms more tightly around Harry's waist. Harry hooted, and they sped up the alley and into the street, the tails of Ron's robes flowing behind them.

When Harry pulled the motorcycle to the curb beside the disused phone box and shut off the engine, Ron climbed off with a slightly shaky stagger.

"That was fucking _brilliant,_ mate!" he exclaimed.

"Almost as good as flying, yeah?" Harry agreed, leaning against the bike, arms crossed.

"Do you think it _can_ fly?" Ron

"I don't know. Kreacher didn't mention. Anyway, I wouldn't want to attempt it in the middle of the city if I didn't know for sure. Remember what happened with your dad's car?" Harry smirked. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Don't remind me! I wonder if it's still in the Dark Forest."

"It's done. Hagrid said Grawp sat on it during sixth year, and it was finally smashed by another giant during the Battle."

"Merlin!" Ron pulled a face. "Probably for the best. Hey, why don't you bring the bike by The Burrow? Dad would love to see it, and you could check it for any magic."

"And how do you suggest we keep Molly from skinning us all alive for even _thinking_ of riding it, let alone flying on it?" Harry gave him a measured, but amused look.

"Easy. Mum's visiting Ginny in Holyhead until Sunday." Ron grinned.

"And she trusts you and Arthur alone with his muggle collections?" Harry laughed.

"Of course not! She placed a spell on the shed to lock it and alert her if anyone tried to get inside."

Harry doubled over with laughter at that.

"Okay. Give me a fire-call when you get home. I'll bring dinner."

"Excellent! I'll let Dad know."

* * *

Harry returned to Number Twelve and parked the motorbike inside the gate. He vanished the remaining debris from his yardwork and went into the house for a shower. As he pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and his most recent Weasley jumper, his eye fell upon one of the posters on the wall. When Harry moved into Number Twelve to make it his home, he and Hermione constructed frames around the pictures and posters that Sirius had permanently affixed to his bedroom wall. Harry noticed that the poster nearest the desk, above a photo of the Marauders, was an illustration of the newly discovered motorbike. At the bottom of the picture, in a youthful scrawl was the phrase "One day!"

Harry shrank the bike and took fish and chips to The Burrow for dinner with Ron and Arthur. Halfway through the meal, George showed up, and was ecstatic to learn of the new bike. The bike could not fly, but Harry wasn't disappointed. The idea of flying on the motorcycle stirred up memories he'd just as soon prefer to keep suppressed. However, he did allow George to talk him into placing a charm on it to render the motorbike invisible and mask its engine noise, so Harry could ride with his invisibility cloak.

The sun had long ago sunk below the horizon when Harry and the three Weasley men finally stepped back into The Burrow.

"That's amazing, that was!" George exclaimed. "Mum's going to have a kitten when she finds out you have it!"

"Who's gonna tell her?" Ron chuckled.

"Just be sure to get the appropriate muggle licenses, and you should be fine," said Arthur.

"Well, I doubt I'll ride it every day, but I'll make certain to do that."

George left and Arthur retired for the evening, leaving Harry and Ron at the kitchen table, pinching greasy crumbs from the newspaper their dinner had been wrapped in at the chippy.

"You're not coming back to the DMLE, are you?" Ron asked abruptly. Harry sighed, folding a small piece of torn newspaper into a tiny square.

"I seriously doubt it, Ron." Harry shook his head.

"So, what's your plan?"

"C'mon, mate. You know what happens when we do plans." Harry shredded the paper. They were silent for a while.

"What are you looking for, Harry?"

"Honestly, Ron, I don't know. I just feel like there is something else out there for me, and I won't be settled until I find it."

"But if you don't know what that is, how will you know if you'll ever find it?"

"I'll know because it will be a part of me and I'll wonder how I ever survived without it." He thought of the green card in the top drawer of his desk and knew just where he was going to start.


	13. Pravus and Paellax

** _Pravus is Latin for corrupt or depraved, while Paellax, in the Latin, is seductive or deceitful._

* * *

Draco knelt on the floor with his knees apart and his hands behind his head, fingers laced. He trained his eyes on the floor, silently berating himself for creating the situation which placed him in this position. Behind him the door opened and he heard footsteps moving in his direction.

"Pravus."

"Sir."

"You know why this must be done, yes?" Paellax asked.

"I did not respect my submissive's limits, Sir."

"Your behavior was reckless and unsafe, and you took away Tia's right to non-consent." Paellax stalked in a slow circle around him as he spoke.

"Yes, Sir."

"I trained you. That behavior reflects badly upon me. It reflects badly upon the House of the Horned Serpent."

"Yes, Sir."

"As such, it cannot go unpunished."

"Yes, Sir."

"Good." Paellax brushed Draco's hair from his shoulder, and he shivered. " _Ipsam Carnem!_ " He flicked his wand and Draco bit down on his lip as a searing lash striped the skin of his back.

"Mm!" He squeezed his eyes closed.

"You will count each lash. Otherwise be _silent_ ," said Paellax. He was an exacting Dom, and Draco pursed his lips tightly. He knew that any sound would earn additional lashes beyond the initial punishment. "Draco."

"One."

"Very good. _Ipsam Carnem!_ "

"Two."

 _Ipsam Carnem Duo!_

"Th-three." Draco stuttered from the surprise of the magnified lashing spell.

Paellax continued to deliver lash after lash, until Draco was panting, sweat dotting his brow, his pale back striped in red welts, as he struggled to keep his hands in place.

"Twen-twenty!"

Paellax finally slid his wand into his pocket and moved to stand in front of Draco, crouching to his level.

"Our Adrestia will remain off limits until sunset."

"Yes, Sir."

"You will respect her limits in the future, yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

"No more absinthe?"

"No more absinthe, Sir."

"Very good. I shall not wish to have this conversation again." Paellax noted the Slytherin's erection standing at full mast. He slapped the head of Draco's cock.

"Ah!" he cried. Paellax snorted.

"Looks like you need to take care of that," he said, slapping it again before he stood and left the room.

The moment the door was closed, Draco collapsed and took himself in hand with a moan. He curled up on the floor, stroking fervently. Within very little time, he felt his prick pulse as he spasmed and convulsed with his orgasm, spilling over his hand. Draco rolled onto his back and let the cool marble of the dungeon floor soothe his abused flesh as he lay panting and sated.

* * *

"Mikey! Come on in! Have a seat! Hey, Bonnie! Get Mikey here a drink. Whaddya have?" Innis Rafferty waved Mike Dooley into the basement game room of the South Boston home where three other men were gathered.

"Got any Teeling, hon?" Mike removed his jacket and sat down at the felt-topped game table, fingering the stack of chips on the side rail.

" _Teeling?_ Wellll, somebody's feelin' himself now, eh? Breathin' easy now my paintings are back on the wall, huh?"

"C'mon, Innis! I told you I would handle it, didn't I?" Bonnie handed him a glass of whiskey. "Thanks, hon."

"Hey, babe. You think you can make that dip for the fellas? You know how much I love it." Innis gave his wife a smile and kissed her hand.

"I'll see if I have what I need to make it," she replied. He reached into his pocket and took out a money clip, drawing off a few bills.

"Here. Get whatever you need, hon." He handed her the money and kissed her again. Mike watched her go.

"You're a lucky man, Innis. I think I've given up finding a gal like that." Mike turned back to the table.

"Your problem is you can't keep your fingers outta other people's pie, Mikey."

"What are you talking about, Innis?"

"What do you take me for, Dooley? Some kinda eejit? I gave you a simple job. The paintings go missing, and I collect the insurance. You keep the investigations at bay, and bring back my shit after I'm paid. Funny how you leave my shit in a fucking pawn shop where they go missing _again_. Then, miraculously, you manage to get them back, when I offer to rearrange your fingers. Well, ain't that convenient! But here's where you got problems, buddy. The _fifty-thousand dollars_ hidden in the back of the paintings ain't there no more!"

"What?" Mike spluttered, choking on his drink. "There was _money_ in the paintings? I didn't know anything about that! Why would you let the paintings go with cash inside?"

"Yeah? You know who _did_ know about the cash?" Innis lit a cigarette.

"Look, Innis, I swear, I didn't—"

"Tracey knew. You know Tracey don't you, Mikey? Let's connect the dots once more. _You_ connect to this fixer to heist the paintings. _You_ stash the paintings at the pawn shop. _You_ locate the paintings after they're stolen again. _You_ are pokin' my girl— _my girl—who_ just happens to know about the cash in the paintings."

"Hey, Innis, I swear I don't know anything about any money. I would never muscle in on your girl, c'mon, man!"

"So, that was someone else's St. Michael necklace I found in her apartment—the apartment that _I_ pay for? Huh? Huh?" He blew smoke in Mikey's face. "Tell you what I'm gonna do, friend. I'm gonna give you a chance to make it right. You give me the name of the fixer and the pawnbroker. Clearly, someone needs to teach him what happens when you fuck with other people's shit."

Mikey trembled as their companions left their seats. Police officer or not, he was deep in the shit.

"Look, Innis, Patty didn't have anything to do with this. I didn't know about the money, so how could I tell him?" Mikey begged. Innis' face was impassive. "The fixer—the fixer, they call him Pravus. He runs this place called The Horned Serpent. It's on Beacon Hill, b-but it's exclusively high rollers. You need an invite to get in." He stared at the table.

"Then I'll get one." Innis sat back in his chair. He lifted his glass in salute. "Slainte."

Mikey's glass never made it to his lips, slipping from his fingers and shattering on the tile floor, as he was struck in the back of the head.

* * *

"Good evening!" The door was opened by a different, yet no-less stunning, woman this time. "May I have your calling—" When her eyes landed on the shimmering green card, she stepped back with an obsequious curtsy. "Right this way, sir!"

Harry lengthened his stride to keep up with the woman as she hurried along the main hall to the door with the serpent.

"Thanks, I know the way," he said and she left him to continue down alone. The door to the owners' private salon was ajar and a heated conversation seemed to be taking place. Harry stepped close and listened in.

"I'm afraid, I have no idea of what you speak, Mr. Rafferty. If memory serves, your paintings went missing, and I was contacted in regards to helping recover them. I believe that was done. I know nothing about sequestered cash," said Draco, his expression impassive. "Nor do my associates."

"I'm not a patient man, Pravus. I also don't take kindly to being robbed, especially after I've paid you so generously. I'm not someone you want to get on the wrong side of," Innis leaned forward menacingly. The young, long-haired blond had a lot of nerve, idly stroking his girl's thigh while he spoke. He eyed the other man, sitting casually on the other end of the Chesterfield with his arm draped across the back. They looked as if they were barely out of their teens. How could they possibly manage to have set up an organization like this? Fucking rich foreign students thinking they can just come set up shop and play with the big boys. Innis wasn't having it.

"While I can appreciate your situation, Mr. Rafferty, I'm afraid we cannot help you. However, please feel free to partake of our amenities. I'm sure that we have some entertainment which meets your tastes."

"So, what are you—nineteen? Twenty? You one of those bored rich, pretty-boy students getting your jollies pulling heists? Listen kid, you're out of your depth. I'm sure you probably already spent the cash on booze and weed, or some ice for your bitch here. So, here's how this is gonna go—I'll give you a week…ten days. You get my money back. If you don't, I'll shut your little operation down in a most _painful_ way. You get me?"

Draco leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and lacing his fingers.

"You _don't_ frighten me, Rafferty. My own father sold me out to a madman who I watched murder a woman on top of my family's dining table. My godfather threw my school head off the top of the highest tower of the building in front of my very eyes. My best friend burned to death in a fire he'd trapped me in with him, and my childhood crush all but gutted me like a pig in a school lavatory." He leaned back, pulling on his cool Malfoy sneer. "So, you can _keep_ your threats, sir. Feel free to see yourself and your companions out." He gave a dismissive wave, pulling Adrestia into his lap, and kissing her neck.

"You arrogant little shit!" Innis rose to his feet, angrily, drawing his pistol. His companions also went into their coats when the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

 _Expelliarmus! Oculus Caligo!_

"What the hell? Dermot! Teighe!" Innis bellowed when his pistol was snatched from his grasp.

 _Lumos Maxima!_

The room was suddenly bathed in bright light and the lights in the room were restored. Innis and his associates were staggered to find their weapons in the hands of Pravus and his associates. He spun around at the unmistakable sound of a pump-action being engaged, and faced a young hipster sporting a motorcycle jacket, a head of unruly black hair and a malevolent glare behind round eyeglasses as he leveled a sawed-off shotgun at them. They raised their hands.

"Now who's out of their depth, Rafferty?" The other blond, who'd largely remained silent up until this point, spoke up. "My partner said, good evening." He gestured to the door with the pistol that he held.

Rafferty looked from the group to the other boy.

"Are you waiting for an escort?" he asked. _Confundo!_ The group suddenly rushed frantically for the exit in desperate need to be certain their families were safe.


	14. Crazy Love

_Draco's monologue to Harry in the hotel suite is partially quoted from the philosophies of_ _Donatien Alphonse François,_ _Marquis de Sade._

* * *

"You know, Potter, we had this under control."

"Yeah," Harry scoffed, with a grin as he vanished the firearms. "If you say so. What in Merlin's name are _you_ doing here anyway, Neville?" The two Gryffindors embraced one another and Harry took the chair that had previously been occupied by Rafferty.

"Surely Draco mentioned that he had business associate."

"Wait—what? _You_? …and Draco are business partners?"

"Boggles the mind, I know, does it not?" Draco cocked a brow.

"So, wait a minute! Neville, when we had lunch the other day, you already knew I'd been here?"

"Actually no. I simply assumed that you somehow crossed paths. It wasn't until I spoke with Draco later that I learned you'd actually come to The Horned Serpent."

"So, you're into all of…this…too?" Harry asked with astonishment.

"Pravus had to learn it somewhere," Neville replied.

"Pravus?"

"In this business, identity protection is paramount. May I present Master Pravus," Neville gestured to Draco.

"This is Master Paellax," said Draco. "And you are…quite…familiar with our consort, Adrestia."

"It is good to see you again, Harry." Adrestia gave a small smile before lowering her eyes again.

"Come along, pet. I believe our dears need some time to themselves." Neville stood and held his hand out to Adrestia. "Harry, I look forward to catching up."

Adrestia lightly trailed her fingers over Harry's arm as she passed. He caught her hand in his, and she leaned down to place a kiss on his lips before following Neville out, pulling the door closed. Harry and Draco sat silently facing one another. Harry's heart was pounding as he waited for Draco to speak.

"You like wearing that stupid jacket?" Draco was the first to speak.

"Well, I thought it might be rather useful on my motorbike," he replied with a shrug. Draco gave him a curious look.

"One of those two-wheeled jobs that look like a rocket?"

Harry chuckled at the Slytherin's lingering lack of knowledge of the muggle world.

"Well, I suppose some of the modern ones do look like rockets, though I'm surprised you know what a rocket looks like. My bike belonged to Sirius, so it is rather vintage. I discovered it the other day, hidden in the garden. Wanna go for a spin? I brought it with me."

Draco looked skeptical.

"C'mon! It's the closest thing on the ground that you'll get to riding a broom."

"Really?"

Harry smiled. He knew what Draco was thinking. "Well?" he asked. Draco seemed to be considering it.

"Okay, let's go." He summoned a coat, and stood. It was then that Harry looked closely at his attire.

Draco wore close-fitting leather breeches with tall boots. His white shirt looked to be painted onto his torso, and featured a sheer fabric through which the rings in his nipples were plainly visible. Harry licked his lips.

"Worship me later, Potter. Let's go." Draco rolled his eyes and slipped into the leather duster that matched his trousers and moved to the door.

He stared open-mouthed when the bike roared to life.

"It's awfully loud, isn't it?"

"Oh, c'mon!" Harry tugged his sleeve and climbed on the bike. Draco hesitated a moment.

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"'Are you sure it's safe?'" Harry mocked him. "You sound like Mrs. Weasley. It's the safest thing you'll ever have between _your_ legs! Get on!"

Draco vacillated a moment more, and finally, with a flourish of coattails, climbed on behind Harry. He shuddered at the feel of the engine's vibration reverberating through his body.

"Merlin!"

Harry laughed and revved the engine. Draco grabbed his waist tightly as they took off. He thought to himself that the ride was almost better than flying, as Harry expertly maneuvered the two-wheeled vehicle through the streets, their surroundings moving past in a blur of light and reflection. The rumble of the engine was thrilling as his thighs rested against the back of Harry's legs and he felt the muscles of the other man's back against his chest as they leaned into each turn. Soon the ride was over and Harry brought the bike to the curb in a side street beside the hotel. Making sure there were no onlookers, he shrank the bike and slipped it into his pocket, grabbing Draco's hand as they disapparated.

Harry had booked into the Presidential Suite this time, and Draco appeared to be impressed as he looked around the well-appointed living room while Harry retrieved his miniaturized motorbike from his pocket. Draco followed him as he made his way to the bedroom, where he carefully hid the bike inside a well-worn rucksack.

Harry removed his jacket and was immediately knocked off balance as Draco pounced on him, the pair collapsing onto the bed. Draco wriggled out of his own coat and kissed him deeply, pulling a fistful of hair with one hand, the other traveling down Harry's torso. Harry grabbed his wrist as he began to tug at his belt.

"Stop." He gripped Draco's wrist tighter as the Slytherin attempted to pull out of his grip. "Stop—stop it, Draco!" Harry pushed him, flipping Draco onto his back. "I didn't go to the trouble of securing an international portkey and American wand permit just for a casual shag." He climbed off of Draco and went back to the living room.

"Fine. What are you doing here, then?" Draco followed him.

"Because, I—" Harry turned away from him. He couldn't look at his perfect form and think straight at the same time. "I need to figure this out."

"What is there to figure out?" Draco asked impatiently. Harry was so frustratingly oblique! He wanted to just beat it out of him.

"This—us!" Harry finally turned to face him. "I can't get you out of my head. I don't know why I want you. I don't know why the thought of submitting to you turns me on, but I still don't want to let you dominate me. I just can't give up that easily!"

"You still don't trust me," Draco said. He scowled at Harry and shook his head. "Fucking hell."

"You're a _grifter!_ " Harry declared. "I mean, Merlin, man! I walked in to find you about to be assassinated by mobsters!"

"Oh, please! Neville told you we had it all in hand!" Draco insisted. "We're fucking _wizards_ , Harry! Say what you will about muggles, they still can't hold a flame to us! We will always have the upper hand. No—wait—I don't mean that bullshit ideology of yesterday." He held up a hand when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "Neville will tell you that we don't prey on the innocent. We settle the balance of entitlement with regards to the rich and powerful." He began to pace. "My manner of thinking, so you believe, cannot be approved. Do you suppose that I care? Haven't we lost enough of our lives to such philosophy? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking just to suit others! Don't we deserve to live and enjoy our vagaries, Harry? You would deny yourself what is _clearly_ your deepest desire for fear of condemnation? I swear to Merlin, I am _never_ doing that again, and before I meet my end, I intend to make Lucius _pay_ for ever making me a slave to such fallacies!" Draco turned to Harry, advancing upon him as he spoke. "I meant what I said, Harry. I'll take you any way you let me have you. You are like the jewel in The Horned Serpent. You ignite my passions as if I were the sun through a magnifying glass, creating a flame that threatens to consume everything in its path! You and I, Harry—we've each stood at the edge of the precipice and looked down into Tartarus. The rest of the world has only ever read of such a thing! That alone should be enough for you to trust."

They were toe-to-toe now. Harry had nothing with which fight and no desire to retreat. Again, Draco had laid himself bare and Harry felt like a tyrant, knowing anything that he could say would only spoil the offering that had been placed before him. He gazed into the silver eyes that beseeched him to look deeper.

"Make me," he said. "Show me how to trust you, Draco." He held his gaze.

"That, my love…" Draco's lips slowly curved into a seductive smile. "Is what I have been waiting for you to say."

Draco grabbed Harry's wrist and turned. They apparated to a door in an areaway below the street. Harry looked up at the brick townhouse above them.

"This is your house isn't it?" he asked, rubbing his arms as he realized they'd forgotten their coats.

"It is. However, this entrance allows me to receive select guests and exclusive clients who prefer not to associate themselves with The Horned Serpent.

He waved his wand and a series of locks could be heard disengaging with a sound that reminded Harry of the vault doors at Gringotts. They stepped into a small foyer with walls that were upholstered in black damask, art deco style jade sconces, and a floor of black marble featuring an inlay of a magnificent green dragon.

"Wow! What exactly is that stone?" Harry asked.

"Serpentine."

Magnificent arched doors swung open at their approach and they entered a large, dimly lit room. The windows, set high like those in the kitchen at Number Twelve, had a green tint that reminded Harry of those he'd seen when he and Ron infiltrated the Slytherin Common Room. The walls were covered in tufted suede. Harry initially thought the fabric was black, but realized that it was in fact a very deep green. There were recessed lights around the top of the walls providing the only illumination and giving the room a feeling of being deeper than they actually were. The space was a more opulent version of Dean and Seamus' vault playroom. Of course, as far as Harry knew, no one was paying Dean and Seamus obscene amounts of money to fulfill their most debauched fantasies.

He pulled Harry into the center of the room, taking his face into his hands and kissing him gently and passionately. Harry let out a sigh and parted his lips. A nearly inaudible moan escaped him as Draco plunged his tongue between them. He nipped Harry's bottom lip and slid his hands down to his chest, gripping his shirt in his fists and pulling him close.

"What were you thinking?" Draco asked, kissing Harry's chin. Harry turned his head and he began to trail soft kisses along his jaw. "Upstairs, when you asked me what it was like that night?" He licked the space between Harry's earlobe and jaw.

"I—umm. I don't—" Harry shuddered.

"Did you want to submit to me?" Draco asked as he began to tug Harry's shirt free of his waistband. Harry lifted his hands to do the same to Draco, but he pushed them back. "Did it turn you on to hear me expose your deepest…" He pulled Harry's shirt over his head. "…darkest…" He raked his hands down Harry's chest, causing him to throw his head back with a hiss, and Draco licked his throat. "…desires…" Harry reached for him again. He slapped his hands away again, grabbing his hair and pulling his head back, roughly. "Did you hope that I would mark you, Potter?"

Harry pursed his lips, breathing heavily. His body was hot with want. He wanted Draco to conquer him, but he didn't want to give in without a fight. Draco grabbed Harry by the chin, his fingernails pressing painfully into his jaw.

"You can't _stand_ to let me win, can you? This—it's turning you on like nobody's business, but you don't want to give in!" Draco smiled wickedly. "Bloody Gryffindor bravado! I should slap the shit out of you! I think you'd like that." Harry narrowed his eyes and Draco released his hair, turning to a large armoire against the far wall. "Don't worry, my love. While I plan to absolutely _decorate_ your creamy flesh this evening, I rather like your face as nearly perfect as it happens to be right now."

"So, are you just going to talk shit all night? Because if that's the case, I didn't have to come all this way. We could have simply done with a fire-call." Harry crossed his arms.

"Now, I _know_ I should slap you, cheeky bastard." Draco turned back to him and assumed a mirror stance to Harry's as he stood studying him a moment.

In truth, he was stalling because for the first time since his initial experience as a Dom, he was nervous. Harry was easily the most powerful wizard he had ever known. As much as he wanted to own Harry, he found himself falling under the Gryffindor's sway, his mind going back to their last encounter and the way he became aroused as they fought for dominance.

"You weren't so chatty when my hands were all over you. _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry's wand sailed from his pocket and into Draco's hand. He sent it to the cabinet.

"What are you doing?" Harry took a step forward, reaching out his hand to summon his wand, but Draco pointed his own at the Gryffindor.

"'Show me how to trust you, Draco'. Have you forgotten already?" He gave Harry a licentious grin. "Take off the rest of your clothes."

Draco's voice was cold, reminding Harry of their early years in school, and a shiver snaked its way down his spine. Clearly he had pushed the right button, for he'd begun to think that Draco was losing his nerve. He toed off his boots and slowly removed his trousers and pants, kicking them aside and assuming his challenging stance once again, arms crossed over his chest.

"Arms at your sides."

Harry looked at him defiantly. Draco huffed.

" _Crucio Vexo!_ "

"Shit!" Harry jumped, the hex stinging his chest. He looked down, but saw no marks.

"It will not serve you well to be rebellious, love. _Arms at your sides!_ " Harry complied and Draco approached him. "Compliance earns you reward." He lightly trailed his fingers over Harry's chest, thumbing over each nipple. Harry shivered and he grinned briefly. "Disobedience…" He pinched both nipples hard, giving them a tug. "…that will earn you consequences."

Harry let out a long hiss and closed his eyes, clenching his fists to keep from raising his hands. He felt his lower region stirring to life.

" _Incarcere Continuisse!"_ Draco flicked his wand and Harry found himself spread and shackled hand and foot. He gasped, his eyes flying open. "Now, then…" Draco backed away from him. "What to do with you…" He turned to the armoire and flicked his wand. The doors swung open to reveal an array of floggers, whips, paddles and canes. Harry's breath hitched as he laid eyes upon them. Draco made a great show of picking up this flogger and that paddle, then returning them. Finally, he pulled open a slim drawer and leaned forward examining several items that Harry was unable to see.

"Ah, yes! This will do nicely!" Draco turned back to Harry holding what looked like a spur, minus the heel band.

"What the hell is that?"

"Shhhhhhh! I don't recall saying that you could speak, love. Keep this up, and you'll get that _Langlock_ I threatened you with last time. _This…"_ Draco arched a brow and approached Harry. "…is a Wartenberg wheel." He flicked the wheel with a finger and held it up as the tiny spikes spun around. "I think you'll rather like it!"

Draco reached up and touched the spiked wheel to Harry's arm, slowly dragging it down and along the side of his torso. Harry panted heavily, biting his lip to stifle a moan. He pulled at his bonds fruitlessly. Draco traveled the wheel over every inch of Harry's excited flesh until he could stand it no more.

"Ohhh!" He let out a long, slow moan, his erection jutting upward like a sentinel.

"Oh, _dear!_ " Draco clucked. "Now you'll have to be punished." He danced his fingers up the underside of Harry's cock. "And I was soo, looking forward to getting my lips around this lovely rod."

He sent the pinwheel back to its place and turned his wand to Harry, dragging the tip down the center of his chest and over his abdomen.

"Let's see if we can wake the neighbors." He nipped Harry's lips. Harry pulled, leaning in for more, but Draco moved out of reach. "A tongue that can't follow directions, doesn't get to play with mine." He dragged his wand over Harry's shoulder as he moved behind him.

"Right then… _Ipsam Carnem!"_ He pointed his wand.

"Shit!" Harry rose up on his toes as his back was suddenly aflame from the lashing hex.

" _…_ One…for choosing Weaselby over me!"

" _What!_ "

"You should have accepted my hand! Instead, we were locked in this fucking dance of wills for years! _Ipsam Carnem!_ "

"Ah! Fuck!" Harry spat.

" _…_ _one…_ for infiltrating the Slytherin common room…" Draco scraped his teeth over Harry's shoulder. "…for any other reason than to kiss me…"

 _Ipsam Carnem!_

Harry trembled and moaned as he pulled against the restraints, listening to Draco tick off the years of unrequited—was it love? Is that what this was about? Did Harry feel the same? His pondering would have to wait. The amazing agony was upon him again.

"…one…for being so _bloody_ special, even that fucking giant chicken liked you better than me! _Instigosempra!"_

"Fucking _Merlin_ _and_ _Morganna!_ " Harry virtually screamed as an incredible thrill shot through his prostate. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!" He bucked and writhed. They'd only covered the first three years of school! "Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Mmmmmmmmmm!"

"…one…for taking fucking Patil to the Yule Ball…" Draco hexed Harry again and again. "…for asking _Cho Chang_ to Hogsmeade for Valentine's…"

They had reached sixth year. Harry's legs were weak and his cock was agonizingly hard. He was close to the edge, but now he was worried. By sixth year, he had taken to actively stalking Draco, unaware of how both their actions would mark the rest of their lives. He panted heavily, whimpering and waiting as the excruciatingly wonderful quiver continued between his legs.

" _Ipsam—_ " Draco faltered.

Harry winced as he felt the thin material of the Slytherin's shirt against his abused flesh. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and kissed his shoulder.

"I...I could never make you atone for the multitude of sins _I_ committed that year."

Draco stood in front of Harry and removed his shirt. The silvery white scars that marred his pale flesh seemed almost to shimmer in the dim lighting of the room. Harry looked away.

"Look at them." Draco commanded in a voice that was firm, but soft. "You didn't do this. _I_ did. I _made_ you do this. I _deserved_ this. I deserved to die that night. I _wanted_ to die…and I would've gone happily…" He blinked several times to rid himself of the water in his eyes. "…because finally… _finally_ , you touched me."

Harry shivered, breathless from the unceasing stimulation in his groin, as Draco took his face into his hands and kissed him gently. He brushed his lips over his, tenderly drawing in Harry's bottom lip. Harry parted his lips with a whimper and Draco kissed him deeper. Harry's face became flushed as he felt the heat of Draco's lust-filled magic envelop him. His cock pulsed and he gasped, convulsing.

"Draco—oh!" He was on the edge.

"Harry!" he whispered. Draco stepped back and stared at Harry for a moment.

"Oh, fuck! Draco! _Please!_ " Harry begged, straining at his bonds. Draco slapped him hard across the face. "Fucking hell!" Harry shattered and orgasm shook him violently. He threw his head back. "Shit! Oh, my god! Shit! Fuck! Mmmmmmm! Unnnnhhhh!"

When Harry finally recovered enough to open his eyes, panting on tremulous legs, he stared at Draco. The Slytherin was turned slightly away from him, face hidden behind a veil of white-blond hair.

" _That_ …" he heaved a deep sigh. "Was for the way my soul shattered when Hagrid laid your body before us and the Dark Lord declared you dead… _Finite._ "

The unrelenting stimulation ceased and Harry sagged in his bonds, still short of breath, and reeling from all that had taken place. Every nerve ending in his body was alive and the sensation was overwhelming. He shuddered again and let out a whimper.

" _Exsolvo!_ " Draco caught him as he staggered free of the restraints. He was surprised, but too undone to appreciate it, when the slightly-built wizard effortlessly lifted him into his arms.

Harry closed his eyes as Draco carried him out of the chamber. Shortly, he was laid in a soft bed and felt delicate and soothing hands applying dittany to his insulted flesh as he drifted into a sated and exhausted slumber.

* * *

The next morning, Harry rolled over, settling deeply into the sumptuous bedding and the warm body beside him, and lifted his hands to caress a soft and very _non-masculine_ figure. He opened his eyes to discover Adrestia smiling at him, her arms held tightly behind her in severe-looking restraints.

"Good morning. You're very beautiful when you're sleeping," she said.

"Erm, thanks. Erm, good morning. Gee, that looks uncomfortable," he said, sitting up on one elbow and squinting.

"I'm used to it." She attempted to shrug, but her movement was impeded by the rigid metal. Harry cast about until he found a wand on the night table behind her. He wasn't sure whether it was his or not, since he still hadn't located his glasses. He reached across for it. "Oh, that won't work. It's a charm that only allows _him_ to remove them."

"But what if—"

"Well, they don't bind my magic, just my hands." She shifted, and Harry realized that he was practically on top of her. The movement teased the head of his semi-erect prick, which also reminded him that they were both quite naked.

Adrestia said nothing. She returned his gaze with a soft, yet expectant expression. Harry felt his cock nudging to life between them. He leaned down and licked one dusky nipple as he palmed the other breast. She let out a soft sigh and Harry captured her lips in his, and she lifted her head to meet him, tongues exploring one another. He reached down and pushed her legs apart, slipping his fingers into her warm pussy. She arched up to meet him.

"Mmmm!" she moaned quietly. He moved his fingers faster, his thumb circling the button of her clit. "Ohhhh!" She tightened around his fingers, drawing her legs together. He grabbed her thigh.

"Keep your legs open," he whispered. He captured a nipple between his teeth and pulled as he worked his hand into her. She let out a deep groan and squirmed as he stretched her open.

Harry wrapped his other hand around her throat, staring hungrily as he worked in and out of her tight, wet pussy. She trembled and writhed, her raspy moans growing louder.

"Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped.

"You like that?" he whispered.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Oh! Yes! Oh! Yes!"

"You know I fucked him, right?" Harry stilled his hand and looked at her, face blurred without his glasses. She nodded. "No secrets, yeah?" She shook her head. "You want me to fuck you like I fucked him?" She nodded. Harry rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him. "Ride it." He guided her down onto his erection, hands on her hips.

Adrestia slowly lifted herself up and down, rolling her hips. Harry gripped her hips and thrust upward roughly.

"Harder!" he insisted. She lifted herself and he pulled her down hard. Harry dug his fingers into her hips with bruising pressure as he bucked underneath her, forcing her down onto his cock viciously. "Shit! Oh, fuck!" he hissed.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh! Aaaaaahhhhhh!" she wailed, her head thrown back as she rode him.

"Did you fuck Neville last night? Did you?"

"Yes! Yes!" she cried.

"You like being shared by all of us?" he grabbed her nipples, pinching them as he thrust upwards.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Fuck!" She clenched around him as his cock pulsed inside her.

"You wanna cum?" She nodded vigorously. "Alright then." Harry lifted her off. "On your belly."

She lay face down, knees apart, and lifted her ass into the air. He gripped her hips again and pushed into her pussy, stroking hard and fast as she tightened around him, screaming into the pillows as she orgasmed. Harry felt himself tipping over the edge and he pulled out of her again, grabbing her hair.

"Swallow it!"

Adrestia wriggled around until they were kneeling face to face. He pushed her head down onto his cock. She took him in, relaxing her throat and hollowing her cheeks as she sucked.

"Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Ohhhh, yesss!"

She hummed around him and Harry shuddered, fisting her hair and thrusting against the back of her throat as he came.

"We should probably see to some breakfast, and get you out of those fetters," he said, pointing his wand to clean them up. He found a pair of pyjama bottoms draped over an ottoman. He pulled them on and summoned his glasses.

* * *

"Nice pants, Potter!" Neville snickered when Harry entered the dining room a little while later with Adrestia in tow. Harry gave him a curious look and Neville gestured with his fork. He looked down. A large Slytherin crest adorned the left hip of the pyjama bottoms he'd pulled on when they got out of bed. He rolled his eyes.

"How I _sincerely_ wish I had a camera right now," laughed Draco. "The Prophet would likely empty their vault for the picture!"

"Oh, ha-ha. Very funny." Harry slid into the nearest chair and a house-elf in a tiny kimono set a plate of food in front of him. Harry looked at the elf curiously as she quietly scurried from the room.

"That's Mimi." Neville said.

"American elves. They're almost _impossible_ to come by, and MACUSA standards of welfare put Granger's crusade to shame." Draco pulled Adrestia into his lap.

"She's wearing proper clothes."

"Made them herself she did," Neville replied. "You still don't _give_ them proper clothes, but you can give them whatever you wish—a tea towel, pillow case, or just a scrap of cloth. They'll turn it into a work of art! They actually compete to be the best dressed. Some of the more nouveau riche witches and wizards hold exhibitions to showcase their elves' designs—the more outlandish, the better."

"It's unseemly!" Draco said, disdainfully. He offered Adrestia a sip of tea.

"Says the man whose elf ran away from home," Harry replied, taking up his knife and fork.

"I'll have you know, Dobby was my best friend growing up. It was Lucius who treated him like shit, not I." A sincere expression of affront crossed Draco's face.

"Dobby was brave. I hate what happened." Harry replied. He sipped his juice. "Are you going to take those off?" he asked, watching as Draco fed Adrestia a piece of pastry. He moved his fingers in and out of her mouth as she licked off the fruit filling.

"Why? Would you prefer I put them on you?" He arched a brow.

"I doubt they'd look as good. He doesn't have her amazing tits," said Neville. Harry choked on his juice. "Oh, _relax_ , Harry. If I was interested in you, I'd have said something years ago. I don't dilly-dally like Slytherins." He smirked in Draco's direction.

"I don't recall you being so brave years ago." Draco scowled at Neville.

"I don't recall you being so _gay_ years ago." Neville sipped his tea, looking over the rim of the cup. "Or perhaps you thought tormenting me would get Harry to notice you." Draco shrugged.

"Perhaps. _Liberari Captivus._ " Adrestia's fetters disappeared. She sighed heavily and he began to knead her shoulders. "Or maybe I thought _you_ were kind of cute. But of course, fancying a Gryffindor was just… _wrong._ "

"Oh, Godric's _sword!_ Are you two _sleeping together?_ " Harry asked in disbelief.

"Oh, _honestly_ , Harry!" Neville set his cup down with a clatter.

"In the interest of full disclosure, Neville and I have had one on a time or two—largely out of drunken boredom—"

"More like out of one drunken Slytherin whinging for a certain Saviour of the Wizarding World, _I_ think. Nonetheless, I'm not generally inclined towards blokes, love. No need to be jealous."

"I'm not jealous. I'm still trying to absorb the idea of _you_ as a—a dom, in a business partnership—or _any_ type of mutually beneficial relationship with Draco Malfoy. _How_ did this happen?"

"After the battle, I realized that life is fleeting and I didn't want to spend it cowering in the face of bullies. My parents did not sacrifice their sanity-basically, their lives-for me to live my life in fear. I only needed to be confident and I could control my destiny. After the war, I spent some time in self-reflection. I went to the continent, where I discovered this world quite by accident, and I found that it suits me. I delight in that lively sensation of pain. Injecting a level of savagery into dealings with the object of one's desire certainly heightens the gratification of the experience. I was so changed when I returned, grandmother felt that it would be to my benefit to travel a bit more and expand my horizons. She had no idea just how much I already had." He snickered. "She agreed to give me access to part of my birthright in order to finance my world tour. I chose America as my first—and ultimately _only_ —stop. Wouldn't you know, I stumbled upon Malfoy in the city looking utterly out of his depth around so many muggles and on the verge of losing his shit. So, I took him back to the flat I was renting, which happened to be owned by the parents of this lovely creature." He smiled at Adrestia. "Draco was in a right state—all absinthe-wasted in the hopes of overcoming his nightmares. I don't know what possessed me to think that it would work, except, maybe I was in to get a bit of revenge for how he'd treated me those early days in school. Still, it seemed cathartic for him. Then he asked if I could train him to be a dominant. It's no surprise that he took to it like a grindylow to water, though I still personally think he's better suited to the role of a submissive."

Draco snorted. "You just hated to give up your bottom bitch."

"In your dreams, love. Tia has always been my bottom bitch. I just let you look after her because _someone_ has to keep _you_ from going off the rails when I'm not around." He winked at Harry and refilled his teacup.

"Okay! That explains more than I think I ever wanted to know about Neville's love life. But how did all of this get started?" Harry asked. He took a bite of his bacon.

"Well, we ventured out together in search of other like-minded individuals. We found a few gatherings and some nice dungeons. Once we were vetted into the scene, your pretty little dragon became quite popular—it's the hair, I think—and our pureblood ways intrigued the muggles. Soon the other dom/mes began to get resentful. They stopped inviting us out to events, or letting us into their venues, so we opened our own. Our votaries followed, especially the mages, and The Horned Serpent was born. We'd taken a lot of money from some of the best-known dungeons in the city, and a few of them tried to come after us."

"The wards on our location prevent them from entering. That's where the calling cards come in. They're enchanted—of course the muggles are completely unaware of this—but without a calling card to admit you, we're just another ordinary home on Beacon Hill. They walk right by as if lost. In the absence of physical confrontation, some attempted to use intimidation techniques on our clients; threatening to expose one's predilections can be quite damaging to certain reputations," said Draco. "Politicians, prominent attorneys, multi-national business executives pay a pretty penny to keep their private lives private, so we employed the one thing we do best, in order to preserve our clientele."

"Magic," said Harry.

"Mostly well-placed memory modifications. A bit of fighting fire with fire—spouses find out. Someone might have an unexpected mishap—a building flood, underage client—that sort of thing." Draco looked at Adrestia with a smile. She winked and shrugged.

"Underage? You? How old are you anyway?" Harry asked.

"I'm sixteen. Underage by No-Maj law only," she smiled.

"And your parents are okay with this? Are they magical?" Harry asked. She nodded.

"'Mm-hm. They don't know the nature of our relationship. They simply think that Draco and I are dating and Neville is our roommate. I'm nearly of age, and they are well aware that I can take care of myself."

"She's very powerful, Harry. Perhaps as strong as you," said Neville.

"I'm not that powerful, Neville. People just think that I am."

 _But you're a legilimens._

 _I know legilimency is highly advanced magic, but there are those who can perform it nonverbally._

 _Wandlessly? And outside of their target's presence? Even my father has to use a wand and the incantation most of the time._

 _But that alone does not make me powerful._

 _You died and came back._

 _But that was different. There's much more to the story that a lot of people don't know. Not even these two._ Harry gestured to Neville and Draco.

"Hang on! Are you two having a conversation? Harry, you're a legilimens?" Neville exclaimed.

"See what I mean?" Harry pointed out. "They didn't know until just now."

"Well, actually, I told Draco the day that I brought the calling card to your hotel suite," she confessed.

"Is that why you said I should have known?" Harry turned to Draco. "You thought I was invading your mind? Draco, I wasn't like him. I didn't even know what it was until fifth year. We had a connection. I think it might have been for the best that I didn't know, and that I didn't see into what you were thinking, or we may not be sitting here right now." Harry gave Draco a meaningful look.

Though he tried to suppress it, Harry saw the shudder that passed through the Slytherin as he considered the weight of Harry's words and what it might have meant if Voldemort had witnessed Harry attempting to save him from himself.

 _Try to help him calm down. I've seen that face before._

Adrestia kissed Draco on the top of his head, stroking his neck beneath his hair. She offered him a fresh cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted.

"I'd learned occlumency by sixth year anyway." Draco stirred honey into his tea. "My desire to keep the object of my infatuation a secret from Auntie Bella made it quite easy to master rather quickly."

"Unless you're horny. Then you're utterly useless," said Adrestia.

"And that's why you spend so much valuable time locked away when you could be roping the mark." Draco pinched her nipple.

"Speaking of which," said Harry, pushing away his now empty plate. "Why on earth would you get involved in such a thing?"

"It was me," said Adrestia. "Neville discovered me running a glim-dropper scam in a high-end boutique."

"The little minx ran the whole con herself, using a glamour to make herself look older, and duplicates of _real_ jewels for authenticity!"

"I'd hit the jewelry counter at Neiman's wearing a glamour to look like an older woman with money. Get the clerk to take out an expensive piece for me to 'try on'—diamond rings work best. People are always willing to help you find your engagement ring or an heirloom from grandmother—then distract her with a Confundus charm while I cast a doubling charm on it and hide the duplicate away. I'd then find a small upscale boutique in which to 'lose' the jewelry and offer a reward. Come back later under a different glamour and 'find' the jewelry. The manager or owner almost always coughs up at least a grand."

"I was shocked and appalled!" Neville exclaimed.

"Until I bargained with him to keep it from my parents."

"Spankings really turn her on."

"But that's a short con. You guys ripped off a mob boss." Harry gave them a pointed look.

"True, but that was his own fault. He'd set up the robbery himself, and he trusted his middleman not to steal his money." Draco shrugged.

"You didn't steal his money?" Harry asked.

"Of course we did! He was running his own insurance scam, he deserved to get taken."

"We had a guest at the club. Some wealthy barrister. He was defrauding his clients out of their money by charging exorbitant retainers that they couldn't hope to pay. He'd claim that they had court costs and filing fees to pay, and charge them for hours of work he hadn't done. They were usually desperate to stay out of jail or get their loved ones out of trouble, so they paid, sometimes giving him their personal belongings, like jewelry, cars, even the deeds to their homes. Meanwhile, he was also filing motions to continue for no real reason, telling the court that witnesses couldn't be located or were unable to come to court, but he would lie to his clients, telling them that the court was delaying the process."

"He confessed it all."

"What? Why?" Harry was stunned.

"For some, Harry, submission in particular is like Veritaserum." Explained Neville. "People come, seeking punishment and pain in order to assuage their guilt. Others get high off of the sensation, and just like when one is intoxicated, they start to tell their deepest, darkest secrets. A well-placed flogging while you ask the right questions, and they'll say anything without even realizing they've done so."

"Neville got him to reveal what he did with the goods he'd extorted. Most of the cash and jewelry was kept in safe deposit boxes."

"So, we hit the bank," said Adrestia. "Used basic spells that wouldn't alert MACUSA and no one is the wiser."

"Who would he tell?"

"Except someone dropped a wand," said Harry. Neville gave him a look, and Harry explained about Seamus and Dooley.

"That is why we no longer take on contract hitters," said Draco. "Fucking imbecile!"

"So you just roll your clients and no one has caught on?"

"Are you interrogating us, Harry?" Neville's voice took on an edge of suspicion.

"No, Neville. I'm trying to understand. I would never have thought it in your character to be a thief or a con-man."

"We don't betray all of our clients. We'd lose our business if we did that. Sometimes guests tell us about people in need. Sometimes, we happen upon them. The people we take are thieves, cheats and confidence men. They prey upon the weak. We just redistribute the wealth."

"And the court witnesses?"

"We've never turned a witness in favor of someone who is clearly guilty," said Draco. "Except where we know that we can swing the balance of power back in favor of the prosecution."

Harry gave him a withering stare.

" _Money_ , Potter. If a fool is willing to throw it away in order to get something he doesn't deserve, we'll happily take that money—"

"And give him everything he _does_ deserve and more!" said Neville.

"So, the word gets out there's someone who can fix your problems. You 'fix' the problems for a fee."

"We don't take money from people who are in need, we just create a situation in which the return is substantial enough for us to take a modest percentage," said Draco.

"Think of us like a modern-day Robin Hood," said Adrestia.

"Who's Robin Hood?" asked Draco.

"A legendary thief and archer from the medieval period who was said to rob the rich and give to the poor. That's the short version," said Harry.

"Ah." Draco finished his tea. "If Potter is quite finished with his investigation, there is business to be attended. I'd like to finish at a decent hour. Mallory Twilfit will be debuting his new line, and he's promised me an exclusive sneak peek." He batted his eyes. "If you're a good boy, I _might_ take you with me. Salazar _knows_ you could do with some decent clothes."

"I seem to recall that you were rather impressed with my attire on our dinner date," Harry replied.

"Lucky choice. You'd _obviously_ been shopping that day."

"Big deal. Maybe I wanted to enjoy my meal without listening to your snarky comments. You can be such a poncey bitch, you know." Harry sipped his juice.

"Careful, Potter. You aren't quite ready for the type of punishment I generally dish out. Perhaps I shouldn't have spared you that _Langlock_ jinx." Draco fingered the wand lying beside his plate. Harry scoffed.

"That's the third time you've threatened me, _Malfoy._ I see empty warnings are still your specialty. What do—"

 _Langlock!_

Harry gagged and his hands flew up to his mouth. Draco sat back with a smug look on his face. Harry glared at him and banged his fists on the table.

"Oh, Freya! This is going to be good! Come, Tia." Neville beckoned Adrestia to his side, pulling her into his lap. "The main event is about to begin."

 _Finite! Oppugno!_ Harry flicked his wand and the pastries piled high on a platter at the center of the table began to fly towards Draco, pelting him and besmirching his clothing with various sticky and sweet fillings as he leapt backwards, tipping his chair and himself to the floor in the process.

"Sonofa— _Reducto!_ " The pastries disintegrated into crumbs, fillings exploding into a mist that sprayed everything in the immediate area. _Expelliarmus!_ Harry's wand flew into his hand, and he struggled to his feet in the slippery mess. _Rictusempra!_

 _"_ _Protego!"_ Harry leapt from his seat with a wave of his hand, and the silver light of the charm bounced off his shield. " _Incarcerous! Expelliarmus!"_ Their wands flew away from Draco and landed across the room with a clatter.

Neville and Adrestia, who had heretofore been watching the exchange with benign amusement, now leaned forward with curious excitement.

"Did you know he could do that?" asked Adrestia.

"Not a clue," Neville replied.

"I am _not_ amused, Potter!" Draco snarled as he wriggled in the tight ropes that bound him.

"That's too bad." Harry dropped to his knees, straddling him. "You look rather… _tasty…_ with raspberry jam in your hair.

"You _do_ realize what's going to happen when I get free."

" _If_ you get free." Harry teased. He bent down and nipped Draco's lip.

"Wow. Those two are intense," Adrestia whispered to Neville. "Harry doesn't realize he shouldn't tease Draco like that."

"Oh, yes he does. He doesn't care. They've been carrying on like this since we first started school. One always trying to gain the upper hand with the other, and neither wanting to give an inch. They've only just begun to recognize lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannizes. Clearly, they didn't work much out last night. If they keep letting sex get in the way, this could take a while." Neville gave a light chuckle. "It'll be fun to watch though." Adrestia nodded and snickered.

"Oh! Here we go!" she pointed.

 _Accio Wand! Relashio!_ Draco summoned his wand and freed himself, flipping Harry onto his back.

" _Restis Incantamentum!_ "

"Oh, no!" Adrestia exclaimed. She leapt from Neville's lap as he got to his feet, casting a knockback jinx that hurled Draco into the sideboard with a crash.

"Malfoy, are you _mad!_ " He pointed his wand at Harry. " _Liberabit!"_

"What just happened?" Harry got to his feet. "What was that spell?"

"It was nothing," said Neville.

"Clearly it wasn't. Tell me, Neville!" Harry demanded. He summoned his wand.

"Leave it, Harry! Draco simply let his passions get the better of him." Neville glared at Draco as he got to his feet, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yes. That's all. I got beyond myself with passion. Do forgive me, love." He stepped close to Harry, tugging at his waistband and brushing his lips across his. Harry gave him a derisive look. He grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair, pulling his head back harshly. "You can give me a bath, to make up for this _awful_ mess!"

Adrestia shook her head as she watched Draco drag Harry from the room.

"They're hopeless, huh?"

"Definitely," Neville replied. He stroked her hair, planting a kiss on her shoulder. "And how does pet feel about giving Master Paellax a bath?" he whispered.

"But you're already dressed," she said.

"Doesn't mean I'm not _terribly filthy!_ " He gave her a wicked grin and pinched her bare ass. She gave a yelp and they apparated out of the room, avoiding the sticky mess that covered nearly every surface.

"Why does it not surprise me that you can do wandless magic?" Draco blew bubbles from his hand as he sat in the deep bathtub with Harry, who soaped his back with a sponge.

"What was that spell, and why did Neville and Adrestia get so upset when you used it?" Harry asked. He squeezed the sponge and water poured over Draco's back.

"I'm not going to tell you," Draco replied.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't fancy being drowned in my own bath, that's why. It was a mistake in the moment of passion."

"Well, maybe I'll hold you under the water until you decide to tell me."

"You wouldn't. You're too noble to stoop to torture in order to get what you want." Draco leaned back against Harry. "Bloody Gryffindor integrity."

"I'll have you know, the Sorting Hat nearly placed me in Slytherin," said Harry. He slid a soapy hand over Draco's torso. The blond sighed lifting his hips. Harry took his semi-erect member in hand and gave it a few slow strokes.

"Another opportunity to be with me—missed. How then, did you wind up in Gryffindor?" Draco gave a thrust into Harry's hand.

"I told it I didn't want to be in Slytherin." Harry stilled his hand.

"That's just pathetically disappointing! Don't stop." Draco thrust up again, but Harry moved his hand away.

"So, maybe I don't drown you. Maybe I just refuse to give you what you want."

Draco scoffed and turned to face Harry.

"You have no idea what I want, Potter." With that, he gripped Harry's shoulders and pushed him under the water. Harry's wet hands scrabbled for purchase on the smooth sides of the tub. Draco wrapped one hand around Harry's throat and grabbed his cock with the other.

The water made Harry's already blurred vision more unclear as he stared in surprise at Draco. He barely had an opportunity to take in a breath as he was plunged into the warm water. He clutched at the hand around his throat as he felt Draco's hand wrap tightly around his prick. He stroked him hard and fast. The seconds felt like minutes and the lack of oxygen coupled with the sensation of Draco's hand around his cock was almost overwhelming.

Suddenly, the water in the bath rose up in a curtain around them. Startled, Draco released his grip and Harry took in a deep, rasping breath, shoving Draco through the veil of water and onto the plush bath rug that covered the pristine white tile floor. The water receded with a splash and Harry stood like a fountain sculpture, his erection pointing upward. He gaped at Draco, torn between anger and arousal. Draco leaned back on his elbow and spread his legs wide as he stroked his cock.

"Don't be a fucking tease, Harry. I want you inside me." He summoned his wand. " _Resigno Apertus._ " He sighed and lifted his hips.

Harry bit his lip as he gazed down at him. The Slytherin had just nearly drowned him, but the amazing sensation was undeniable, as his still-hard cock was insistently reminding him. Harry blinked as he watched Draco work his fingers in and out of his ass.

"I don't fucking have all day," he declared. "Do I have to _Imperious_ you?"

Harry dropped to his knees, deciding that anger and arousal had plenty of room to play together. He crawled towards Draco, who grinned like a Cheshire cat as he watched him move closer. Harry licked his fingers and worked them over Draco's opening.

" _Illitus Inlitus._ " He slid a slick finger in, moving it slowly in and out.

"Ahhhhhh!" Draco breathed, closing his eyes. Harry worked in another finger. "Mmmm!" Draco moaned. "That is _not_ what I asked you to do. Rest assured; you will _pay_ for this rebelliousness later. Now, fuck me, bitch!" he snapped.

Harry removed his fingers and shoved into Draco hard. He grabbed Draco by the throat, locking his arm as he squeezed with all his weight.

"I told you not to call me a bitch!" he growled. Draco choked out a breathless laugh and raised his legs.

"Yes!" he gasped, clenching around Harry's prick.

"Unngh!" Harry groaned. He gripped Draco's legs behind the knee and used them as leverage, shoving in hard again and again.

"Fuck, yes! Oh! Fuck!" Draco reached up and slapped Harry.

"Ah!" Harry thrust hard and deep, the tight heat overwhelming him. Draco slapped him again as he clenched tightly. "Shit!"

"Cum for me, Harry!" He slapped him again, and Harry shattered, trembling with release as Draco spilled all over his stomach. "Well done, love! You're learning. Well done!"


	15. The Badger Game

"Nice house," said Phil Baronson as the pretty girl stepped back to allow him to enter. She was wearing Minnie Mouse slippers and an oversized tee shirt with boxer shorts, her long braid hanging down her back.

"Thanks." She led him up the stairs to a finely decorated room with a projection screen television. "Where do you live?" she asked, sitting down on the leather sectional sofa and tucking her legs under her.

"Jamaica Plain. Just finished renovating a house in Parkside." He looked around the room with interest. "So, how come you're not in school?" he asked.

"Homeschool."

"Oh. Lucky you. Where are your parents then?" he asked.

"You ask a lot of questions," she replied.

"Just wondering."

"Dad's in France on business. Mom went to New York. She's hosting a fundraiser this weekend and needs a dress."

"And baby girl is home alone. Aww." He finally sat down next to her, pulling her close. "You on the pill?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Good." He kissed her neck, placing his hand on her thigh.

"Ahem." She cleared her throat nervously, shifting her leg.

"It's really okay. I'll go easy on you, baby," he whispered, taking her hand and placing it on his crotch. She felt his erection nudging against his pants.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom. You want anything to drink?" she asked, extricating her hand from his grip.

"Your parents wouldn't happen to have any whiskey would they?"

"I'll check. Be right back." She left the room. He heard a door close somewhere down the hall. Phil unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt, unzipping his trousers. A few seconds later, he heard a door opening again. "That was quick, you—"

"Hello. I'm Colin Creevey, World News Now. You must be Phil." The dark-haired man stepped into the room flanked by two blondes. One held a boom microphone and the other carried a camera which was focused on him.

"W-what's all this? Holly!" he called, edging along the sofa away from the men. He held up his hand to shield his face from the camera. "Is this some kind of joke?"

"Are you aware that that young woman is only fifteen years old?" he asked.

"What?"

"Do her parents know that you are here?"

"I—wait a minute. She said she was of age!" he protested. "Holly!" he called out again.

"I'm afraid not my friend."

"Well, we were only talking," he said. "There's no law against that."

"Yes, talking about birth control—with her hand on your crotch and your lips on her neck. Our hidden cameras have it all on tape, would you like to see? You seem to have forgotten your promise to go easy on her. Oh, and your pants are open because you need some air?" said the reporter.

"No, I—This is a mistake. We're just friends." Phil frantically buttoned his shirt. "Y-you're not going to call the police are you?"

"Well, it is generally our policy to turn over our tapes to the police. We like to get their input, and the footage of any potential arrests is good for ratings," replied Creevey.

"No! My wife will kill me! Listen—listen, do you think—what would it take to get you to turn over that footage?" he asked.

"Oh, I couldn't do that, Mr. Baronson. It would be unethical."

"Come on, please! What about, say 20,000 dollars?" he offered.

"Twenty thousand?"

"Cash!"

"You have that kind of money on you?" asked the camera operator?

"Reg!" the dark-haired man snapped.

"Come on, mate! I'm just a bloody intern, innit? You're alright at the bleedin' Marriott, but that flophouse they stuck me an' Pettigrew in is like Poplar—after the _blitz_!"

"Fine!" he sighed. " _Do_ you have that kind of cash on you?"

"I—well, no, I'd have to go to the bank—"

"Pete, get our contact with the police on the phone."

The taller blond holding the boom mic reached into his pocket.

"No—wait! I can get it! I promise! Just I—I need about fifteen minutes. My bank—it's just around the corner. Not far." His eyes took on a pleading expression.

"Maybe someone should go with him," said Reg.

"We'll follow him in the van. Keep rolling. That way, if he tries to do a runner, we've got that footage too."

"The van…" Reg gave him a look. "Pete, get the van." Pete rolled his eyes and left the room.

"Well?" The other two turned back to Phil.

"Okay. Okay. Uh—right. The bank. My car's just outside."

"He parked out front?" Colin shook his head. "He parked out front," he said to Reg, who shook his head.

"Amateur."

* * *

When they returned a half hour later, Adrestia waited in the parlor. She wore a classy sweater-knit dress that skimmed her mid-thigh and a pair of Christian Louboutin boots, the red soles accenting the scarlet color of the dress. She had straightened her curls and her ebony hair was slicked back into a smooth ponytail, a simple red band holding it in place at the nape of her neck. Diamond studs graced her earlobes and an unadorned ruby pendant on a delicate gold chain graced her neck.

"Wow. You look lovely!" Harry exclaimed.

"Too much red," Draco scowled.

"Well, I thought Harry might like it. A little something to celebrate his first grift," she replied.

"Oh, _this_ is hardly Harry's first grift. He actually managed to break into Gringotts bank _and_ infiltrate the Ministry of Magic. He even got into Slytherin house right under Draco's nose!" Neville bragged. Draco snorted. "I'm certain his experience with polyjuice and glamours has served him well as an Auror."

"Yeah, well." Harry shrugged. "This is the first time I've ever done anything such as _that_ ," he said.

"I've made reservations at Fogo de Chao. The car should be here in about twenty minutes, so there's just enough time to make yourselves pretty." Adrestia winked at them.

A few patrons at the upscale Brazilian steakhouse glanced curiously at the young woman and her three companions as they sauntered self-importantly to their table. The waiter raised a brow when Neville ordered a bottle of Terrazas de los Andes Malbec.

"I'll need to see identification, sir—for everyone."

Harry felt a hand on his thigh. When he reached to touch it, he felt something pressed into his palm and looked to see a passport showing his age to be twenty-two. He handed it over to the waiter.

"It's my beloved's birthday. So we've skivved off classes for a little midday celebration." Neville lifted Adrestia's fingers to his lips and smiled at the waiter. Adrestia giggled. Harry felt the hand that had passed him the fake passport squeeze his leg.

"Oh. Well, happy birthday to you, miss." He left to fetch the wine.

"Hey, erm—speaking of school—I've been meaning to ask, Adrestia. Why aren't _you_ in school? Shouldn't you be in second term right now?"

"Yeah, well, I've never attended Ilvermorny. My parents preferred to teach me at home. Our family has historically been regarded as dark, which is an absolute untruth, but there are rumors about my ancestor in both the magical and No-Maj communities, so homeschool it was." She shrugged somewhat regretfully.

Harry was about to ask about the rumors, when Neville interrupted him.

"Peter Pettigrew, Draco? Really?" Neville narrowed his eyes at Draco, who shrugged with a smirk.

"First name that popped into my head. By the way, who's Reg?" He looked at Harry.

"Reg Cattermole. Works at the Ministry of Magic in maintenance. Ron disguised himself as him, Hermione was Mafalda Hopkirk, and I was Albert Runcorn when we infiltrated the Ministry to get…an important artefact. Only we didn't know that Reg's wife was being interrogated by Umbridge and the Muggleborn Registration Commission at that very moment. Hermione and I rescued her and several others, but poor Ron—Reg's wife Mary kissed him in the middle of the atrium, just as our disguises wore off and Reg showed up from where we'd stunned and hid him and Hopkirk. The bloke was standing there in his pants and vest, and his wife was mortified when she realized she was kissing the wrong wizard! That's when the shit hit the wand and we ended up on the run in the middle of nowhere."

"Yaxley discovered Number Twelve. He'd come back and said that's where you were hiding," said Draco.

"He'd grabbed Hermione's sleeve when we apparated, accidentally revealing its location. We got away, but Ron got splinched in the process."

"Wow!"

"I guess," said Harry. "So, I have to know—how did you get mixed up with this Baronson bloke in the first place?"

"I'm cute, and random guys are always hitting me up on Instant Messenger."

"What's that?" he asked.

"On the computer. You know about the internet, right?"

"A bit. My cousin, Dudley had a computer, but I wasn't allowed to use it. I haven't bothered to learn much about it since leaving school."

"Okay, well you have your internet provider, like America Online, and there's a feature which you can use to chat with other people all over the world. It's like sending an owl, but way faster. You can sit at your computer and send messages back and forth in a manner of seconds."

"Interesting. So anyone can talk to anyone else?" he asked.

"Pretty much, assuming they're online. If parents aren't keeping tabs on what their kids are doing, you get situations like 'Holly' and Phil. Even though, AIM is only for people thirteen and older, kids are pretty smart and they go online with their parents' IDs. Phil started chatting me up. I told him I was fifteen, because he _had_ to know I wasn't an adult, right? He didn't seem to care, just kept messaging me day after day with all sorts of talk about sex and stuff. I played along."

"And he wanted to meet you?"

"Yup. So, why not see if we could roll him?" she shrugged. "You heard him ask where Holly's parents were. He knew what he was up to. That's why he paid out."

"That's just reprehensible—he must have been, what—forty? Forty-five? And he wanted to have sex with a kid!" Neville pulled a face of disgust.

"But what about your clients at The Horned Serpent?" asked Harry. "Do you—"

"Adrestia belongs to us exclusively. She's a hostess at the Horned Serpent, and occasionally assists me or Draco in play and training of new subs. While there are some who like age play, it's not our thing."

"I see. So this Phil bloke just essentially fell right into your hands."

"Basically," said Adrestia. "He's what—the third guy we've caught up like that?"

"I believe so, except, we didn't go for the whole undercover reporter, hidden camera thing before. That only worked because we had you here to help make it look like a thing."

"We don't go looking for marks, Harry," said Draco. "It's not as if we're skint and need the cash. But when one happens to cross our path, especially someone completely unscrupulous who's causing harm to others, we can't simply let that pass. Surely, you understand that, love."

"I suppose," Harry reluctantly conceded. "We let him get away though."

"He got away, short of 20,000 dollars," said Neville.

"And the police will still get a tip off about him. Who's he going to tell that he paid off? None of us actually exist," Draco added. "He won't even be able to find the house...assuming he remembers what happened at all."

"You planted a false memory?" Draco nodded.

"He thinks he bought his mistress a car."

"Wait till his wife finds _that_ out!" said Adrestia. They all laughed.

"Next time, we should actually _have_ a van!" Neville exclaimed. "Thank Merlin I've gotten better at transfiguration!" They laughed again. "So, Colin Creevey, Harry?" Neville gave him a measured look.

"First name that came to mind—Colin and his camera," Harry shrugged. "I like to think he'd have become a journalist had he survived." Neville's face took on a vacant expression as he nodded.

"Who's Colin?" asked Adrestia.

"A kid who went to school with us," said Neville. "Rather annoying little bugger actually—always snapping pictures of Harry with his camera. Although that camera may well have saved his life his first year."

"How's that?" she asked.

"Got petrified by a basilisk, trying to get a picture. Since he didn't actually look directly at it, he was spared."

"A basilisk? Where? Not—wait—in the school?!" Adrestia asked incredulously. "How on earth—"

"You don't want to know," the wizards all said at once.

"I'll take your word for it. But you said 'had he survived'. If the basilisk didn't kill him, then—?" She looked at Harry.

"He was killed in the Battle."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She patted his hand. The waiter arrived and poured their wine. Neville lifted his glass.

"To Colin, and all those who fought and fell."

"To Colin!" they all touched their glasses.

They moved on to more lighthearted topics as their meal progressed, enjoying a wide variety of tastes from the restaurant's _Market Table._ Neville and Adrestia shared conspiratorial winks as Harry and Draco had a war of hands beneath the table.

"Can we please not have a repeat of breakfast?" Adrestia raised a brow. "I hardly think the management would be pleased."

"It's not _I_ who can't keep his hands to himself," Harry replied with an exasperated scowl.

"If you'd just behave, and stop being _defiant_ , it wouldn't be a problem. You know you want it." Draco slowly licked his lips. Harry rolled his eyes and looked at Adrestia. She shook her head and shrugged.

"Master Pravus gets what he wants, unless Master Paellax says otherwise." Her phone rang, and she fished it out of her bag. "Hello?"

"And I rarely do, unless there's inherent risk involved." Neville shrugged with a wicked smile.

"Git!" Harry scowled. Neville winked at him.

"Hey, Dad...Jis soti nan manje midi ak mesye yo. Sa k pase? ...Yon ki sa? ...Èske ou sèten? ...Oke, Mwen ta kwè nou te ka sispann pa lè nou kite isit la. Mwen pa panse mesye yo pral lide. Genyen yon moun mwen vle nou rankontre twò...Oke…Al gade nan ou pita." She rang off and tucked her phone back into her bag. "Do you guys mind if we stop by my place when we leave here? My dad has something he wants me to look at."

"That's fine with me," said Neville. He looked at Draco, who shrugged.

"I've no other plans. Mallory can wait." He called for the check.

"Harry?" she asked.

"I'm just along for the ride."

"Did he say what it was he wanted to show you?" asked Neville.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "A book of some sort, or something."

* * *

"What, erm—what language was that? It sounded French, but—" Harry had a slight look of consternation on his face as they climbed into the car after the meal.

"It's Creole. My father is from Haiti originally. That's where he and mom got engaged. She was working on her thesis for her Master's degree in anthropology—and also researching a bit of family history."

"Your mother's Haitian as well?" he asked.

"No. Mom's from New Orleans. She was researching her ancestor."

"The rumors are about him—her? I don't know much about American wizarding history I'm afraid. Who—?"

"Marie Laveau. She was a free woman of color who was renowned for her skill as a healer and a seer. Even No-Majs flocked to her for help, which rather put off MACUSA, but most of the population of New Orleans didn't really seem to care—except maybe the Catholics. Ma Mère denied being a witch and clung to her voodoo rituals to explain the magic. She was mad powerful, and the other witches and wizards in the city were afraid of her, so no one ever dared to question her.

So _anyway_ , she had two husbands. We knew that her second husband, Christophe Dominick Duminy de Glapion was a No-Maj, but nobody knew much about Jacques. Her first husband, Jacques Paris disappeared quite suddenly. Marie claimed he had died, but no one could substantiate that claim. She managed to get a death certificate issued despite there being no body or burial. Some say that he just up and left her. Both were voodoo practitioners, so there was quiet suspicion about it. After college, Mom went to Haiti to learn about Jacques. Mom and Dad went to school together. She ran into him in Port-au-Prince and they rekindled their friendship and started dating. They moved back to the states and opened an apothecary in Roxbury. My dad is a houngan, so—"

"A who—hoonga—" Harry looked perplexed.

"A houngan—a voodoo priest. Their shop caters to the No-Maj devotees of the religion and those _stupid_ pretenders." She rolled her eyes.

Draco and Neville both snorted.

"What?" asked Harry.

"Oh, _Harry!_ American cinema has made 'witchcraft' trendy among the muggles. They like to dress in black and wear pentacles and worthless ticky-tack that they say is _magical_ ," Neville explained, his voice tinged with scorn.

"It's all due to texts and such that were never recovered after Rappaport's Law was passed," said Adrestia. "MACUSA tries to salvage the more powerful or dangerous of them when they can, but they've been reprinted so many times, the best they can do is infiltrate the publishers with misinformation, so some young No-Maj-born witch or wizard who doesn't know their powers doesn't accidentally blow up their neighborhood."

"But what does all this have to do with you not attending Ilvermorny? Why would your parents think it would be a problem?" Harry asked.

 _"_ Ma Mère was immensely powerful. She could sway the outcome of court cases. People were said to be brought back from the brink of death when she was at their bedside. She got people off of death row, and even sabotaged hangings as they happened Harry! Even white people went to her for help. They say she communed with Baron Samedi himself—the lwa of the dead. She had powers that most other mages did not, and do not. Not the least of which was the ability to perform wandless magic. Her legend, despite the many people who she is believed to have helped, is still one of dark magic. Her powers of legilimency were unrivaled. It is believed that is how she was able to bend so many people to her will and 'fix' so many people's situations. Voodoo is not looked upon favorably in the wizarding community—not outside of Louisiana and places where it has been indigenous for centuries. It's considered to be a link to dark magic, and some believe we use it to teach magic the No-Majs, but we don't. Mom and Dad carefully disguise their magic when in contact with No-Majs, but they were afraid that if I went to Ilvermorny, I would be treated differently because of it, especially given that I seem to possess many of her traits and abilities."

"Like legilimency?" Harry asked. The car came to a stop at the corner of an urban commercial street.

 _Among others._

They got out in front of a three-story building that took up the corner, its entrance shaded by a bright green awning. On the window, neat, hand-painted letters spelled out

 _Botanica Saint-Julien_

 _Pwodwi Natirèl Ak Atik Relijye-Natural Products and Religious Articles._

There was an elaborate display on the inside featuring a variety of religious icons. The group of wizards followed Adrestia inside. The heady aroma of incense immediately assaulted Harry's nose and he felt slightly giddy. Neville gave him a nudge and he noticed three young women all dressed in black examining a display of candles. One of the girls looked over at them. She caught Draco's eye and bit her lip flirtatiously. Adrestia gave her a look that Harry thought could freeze water. He snickered. A tall man dressed in a long, loose tunic and soft trousers smiled as they entered. His bald head and the gold hoop in one ear reminded Harry of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Ma chere! You brought Draco and Neville! Li ta pi bon yo wè ou ankò zanmi m '! _It is good to see you again, my friends!_ " He stepped from behind the counter, greeting them warmly.

"Papa, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my dad, Michel Saint-Julien."

"No! _The_ Harry Potter? He is your zanmi?" Michel took both of Harry's hands in his and squeezed them as he gave a slight bow. "It is my sincerest pleasure, Mr. Potter! I have heard many things about you. Truly, it is an honor to be in your presence!" he exclaimed. "Come!" He gestured to a door behind the counter at the far end of the shop. Adrestia led the way. "Pierre, keep an eye on things, yes?"

"No problem!" a young man with long dreadlocks nodded before turning back to the girls at the candle display.

They went up a flight of stairs and entered a large apartment where a woman, who closely resembled Adrestia, was seated on the sitting room floor with her eyes closed, softly intoning.

"Gracious St. Joseph, protect me and my family from all evil as you did the Holy Family. Kindly keep us ever united in the love of Christ, ever fervent in imitation of the virtue of our Blessed Lady, your sinless spouse, and always faithful in devotion to you. Amen." She opened her eyes and smiled. "Adrestia, my love! Ah, Neville and Draco! Welcome home!" She gracefully got to her feet and hugged each of them in turn, planting a kiss on each cheek. "And who is this? You look terribly familiar."

"Maman, this is Harry Potter."

"Oh, mon dieu! So, it is! To what do we owe the pleasure of such a guest?"

"Harry went to school with Neville and Draco," said Adrestia.

"Right, right! Well, welcome! Come, sit down! May I offer you anything? Have you eaten?"

"Oh, thank you, no, Lilliane. We've just come from lunch." Neville replied.

"So, what is this book you wanted to show me?" Adrestia turned to her father.

"It's rather odd. It's not actually the book that is curious, it's what was found inside it. A No-Maj friend of Maman brought it in. He said he came across it when he received a donation of rare books for the research collection at the McKim Building." He left the room shortly and came back holding a slim volume with a well-worn leather binding. "If I'm not mistaken, this is an early textbook from Ilvermorny. See?"

"Why did he bring it to you?" she asked, taking the book. Neville, Harry and Draco looked over her shoulder. The cover was so well-worn, that the embossed lettering was indecipherable. She opened the cover and saw that it was a compendium of magical creatures.

"This isn't Fantastic Beasts," said Neville.

"No, it's much earlier than that. I think it may be one of the first textbooks. At any rate, there was a handwritten page tucked inside. Here. He thought perhaps your mother could translate it."

"I don't know the language. I've only ever seen anything like it once before." Her mother flicked her wand and a delicate parchment floated over to her.

"And? What makes you think I would be able to make it out?" Adrestia asked as she carefully took the fragile paper.

"Because the one time I'd seen anything like it, you'd written it." The three young wizards looked curiously from mother to daughter.

Adrestia wore an expression of utter bewilderment. She looked at the paper with a slight squint, attempting to make out the faded writing.

" _The human myth describes me as the horned serpent—water creature who makes the sound of thunder and reveals myself only to the wisest ones. Seek my earthly counterpart to reveal my true nature and the prophecy I bear."_ Her voice came out in a sibilant whisper.

Draco and Neville stared at her in absolute astonishment, and turned to Harry in expectation.

"The human myth describes me as the horned serpent—water creature who makes the sound of thunder and reveals myself only to the wisest ones. Seek my earthly counterpart to reveal my true nature and the prophecy I bear," he repeated.

"You understand it? You are a parselmouth?" asked Michel, eyes wide.

"Yes, I am sir." Harry nodded. "Is this why you didn't allow Adrestia to attend Ilvermorny? Because she's a parselmouth?"

"Why subject her to the ridicule of those who would consider such abilities to be the mark of dark magic? Ilvermorny is an excellent school, but kids are kids regardless of whether they have magic. They can be cruel and carry their parents' prejudices. I didn't want her to have to put up with all the drama I had to deal with. We could teach her just as well at home and give her an understanding and appreciation of the No-Maj world too," said Lilliane. "When she turned seventeen, we made up emancipation papers so that No-Maj school officials don't ask questions and she's free to make her own way. I never thought she'd take up with a couple of wealthy English purebloods, but Neville treats her like a treasured baby sister, and Draco—I thought men like him only existed in No-Maj romance novels." She chuckled.

"I'm happy. I have a few No-Maj friends and some magical friends, plus relatives. A few of them didn't attend Ilvermorny either," said Adrestia. "Hey, if I had gone away to school, I'd not have met any of you, and who among my friends can say they are on first-name terms with Harry Potter?"

 _And they certainly can't say he fucked them senseless!_ She winked at him. Harry pursed his lips to avoid responding aloud.

"I can understand your position, Mrs. Saint-Julien. When the kids at Hogwarts discovered I was a parselmouth, _several_ opinions of me changed, and it was difficult to get others to understand that I wasn't dark. Personally, I had rather a crisis of conscience myself."

"This message. I wonder if it was meant for someone specifically. It says the Horned Serpent bears a prophecy." Draco examined the parchment.

"Well, I've heard that Isolt Sayre did befriend a Horned Serpent, who gave her a prophecy," said Michel.

"It's why one of the houses at Ilvermorny is The Horned Serpent. That was my house," said Lilliane. "You don't think this book might have belonged to her?"

Adrestia opened the book and carefully paged through it, examining the end papers and flyleaves closely.

"There's nothing here to say who it belonged to." She shrugged, and gave the book back to her father.

"The man who brought it to you—are you sure he's not a wizard?" asked Harry.

"I've known him quite some time," replied Lilliane. "He's a No-Maj. He thought that the book might have been some early kids' fantasy book. He thought it was ' _amazingly_ imaginative'!" she laughed.

"Welp! I guess it will just be a mystery then," said Adrestia.

"A very interesting one, nonetheless," said Neville. "If Hermione was here, she'd be on a quest for clues!"

"No doubt she'd insist we turn it over to MACUSA for closer examination," said Harry. "Either way, I've had quite enough encounters with massive snakes to last me a lifetime!"

"Truer words were never spoken, my friend!" exclaimed Neville.

"I concur!" Draco declared.

Michel and Lilliane thanked the young mages for their input and they made their goodbyes, promising to get together for dinner soon.


	16. Submission

"Where's Tia?" Harry asked, entering the library where Draco stood in front of the bookshelf leafing through a thick volume. Moody was perched on his shoulder.

"Why?" he asked without looking up.

"No reason, really. She'd told me earlier that she had something she wanted me to see."

"Did she now?" Draco's voice was cool as he continued to page through the book.

"What's the matter with you?" Harry asked, a hint of irritation in his voice. Draco snapped the book shut.

"Adrestia is otherwise occupied at this time." He placed the book back on the shelf. Moody scampered over his arm and onto the shelf. "However, I am glad you are here." He grabbed Harry's arm and they disapparated.

* * *

"Dammit, man! Could you not have warned me?" Harry spat as he stumbled, regaining his footing.

They were in the dungeon, but it didn't appear to be the same as the first time he'd been there. The green-tinted windows were still there. However, gone was the luxe upholstery and flooring. The walls were slatted wood and the floor was rough-hewn and felt underfoot as if it hadn't been swept in quite some time. The opulent cabinet that held the toys and equipment was also gone. Coils of rope, floggers and paddles hung from pegs on the far wall. The lights were bright and harsh, and there was a large diamond-plate panel in the center of the floor that appeared to possibly be a trapdoor. Harry looked around curiously.

"It took quite a bit of research and trial-and-error, but Neville and I discovered the enchantments which allow it to work something like the Room of Requirement, however, it only responds to the desires of the Master, not the submissive—the exception being if the submissive is in true physical distress. In which case, it counters all bindings, as well as spells and enchantments cast, immediately." Draco stood close to Harry.

"That's brilliant." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and continued to examine the changed space. Draco stepped in front of him and tugged his waistband.

"You were defiant and obstinate earlier…" He touched Harry's cheek, brushing his thumb over the Gryffindor's lips. "I _did_ promise that I would make you pay." A flick of the wand removed Harry's clothes and Draco wrapped his fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. Harry clung to Draco's waist, deepening the kiss. Draco stood back for a moment and stared at him. He wondered whether it was even worth it. He'd poured himself out over and over, only to receive ambivalence and aggression in return. He wanted Harry to know him without reservation. How could he get him to stop holding back? He took a deep breath and slid his cool demeanor in place.

"Put your arms behind your back, palms together." He moved behind Harry, and grasped his wrists. Harry turned to look over his shoulder. "Eyes front!" he snapped.

Harry huffed and turned his head back. Draco slapped his ass hard.

"Sss! Shit!" he swore.

"Shut it!" Draco growled. "Enough of your bratty…" he slapped his ass again. "bitchy…" another smack. "…attitude!" He fisted Harry's hair and pulled his head back roughly. "And _don't_ tell me what I can and cannot say to you! I am _not_ fucking Weaselby! If you ever want to taste my fucking cock between those sweet little lips of yours, you'll do what I _fucking say!_ " He added two more slaps to the ass to punctuate his statement.

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine and his flesh pricked with goosebumps. He wasn't sure that the fight was worth it any longer. He wanted Draco just as much as Draco wanted him, but the Slytherin had been right—he hadn't trusted him. If he wanted to prove to himself that this journey hadn't been a foolish waste of time that he would later regret, he'd have to let go of his inhibitions and believe in the one person he'd never thought he had a reason to trust.

The leather was cool as the armbinder slid up and over his elbows. Draco adjusted the straps across his chest and over his shoulders, and flicked his wand to lace it up tightly, pulling Harry's elbows together. Harry wriggled a bit, and found that there was no room to move at all. His pulse quickened.

"On your knees." Draco's voice was softer, but still firm as he spoke. Harry complied immediately, kneeling just at the edge of the trapdoor. "Very good. Sit on your ankles." Harry tucked his ankles under his ass. Draco flicked his wand and leather straps encircled his legs, tightly binding each ankle to the thigh, preventing him from rising.

Harry looked up at Draco, questioningly. A little bubble of panic set in at the base of his belly, but he found it was accompanied by something else—something which bobbed achingly between his legs.

"I didn't say that you could look at me. Merlin, Snape was right, you _are_ a dunderhead, Potter!" Harry narrowed his eyes. Draco leaned over and grabbed his hair again, pulling him off balance. "Something to say, hm? Don't like me mentioning our dear, late Potions professor? I don't suppose _you_ miss him too?"

Draco was surprised to see an expression that looked like regret flicker across Harry's face before he looked away. Draco stared at him for a moment before he recovered himself. He licked Harry's lips, nipping at them before he stood up straight, still holding Harry by the hair.

Harry could see it, clearly nudging against the fly of his trousers. He wanted it, but Draco had blocked him every time he attempted to do more than touch it.

"I see you looking, Potter!" Draco gave his hair a sharp tug and Harry grunted. "You want it, don't you?" He shoved Harry's face into his crotch, grinding against him.

Harry let out a sigh and mouthed over the bulge in Draco's trousers. He tried to move closer for more leverage.

"Fuck! Look at you, Potter!" Draco taunted Harry. He pulled him away. "You've been dying to get on your knees for me!" He let go of Harry's hair and flicked his wand. Harry found his arms being pulled upward, forcing him to lean forward. He slowly stalked around Harry until he was standing behind him. "Let's play a game," he said, and flicked his wand.

The large metal plate vanished, revealing a heavy grate over the top of a shallow pit. Adrestia lay inside, gagged and bound tightly. Harry started when he saw her.

"Tia!" he exclaimed, breathlessly.

"Oh, Tia!" Draco taunted. "She hates the pit. Neville put her in there. For what, I'm sure I have no idea, but no matter. _You_ can help her get out. _Resigno Apertus._ "

Harry gasped with surprise as he felt his ass relax and open as it became slick. He squirmed and looked back over his shoulder.

"Wait—what? I—"

 _Crucio Vexo!_

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Fucking open your mouth or look at me again, Potter, and I swear you'll regret it!"

Harry jumped, and was startled to see Adrestia flinch and whimper as well.

"Compassio Veraque—everything you feel, _she_ feels. Let's see who can cum first." Draco summoned a large steel hook with a ball on the end. "You'll like this." He grinned wickedly and slowly pushed the hook into Harry's opening. "Merlin! You should see how beautifully you take it in!"

Harry inhaled sharply and let out a moan as the hook settled in. The cool metal offset the burning sensation as Draco worked it back and forth, teasing Harry's prostate. Harry closed his eyes.

"Oh my gods!" he murmured. Below him, Adrestia moaned loudly around the gag in her mouth. Draco attached a rope to the loop of the hook's opposite end, and flicked his wand. The rope snaked up through a pulley above them and down into the pit, where it attached itself to the crotch rope that teased her clit. She rocked her hips and the hook pulled itself into Harry's ass. They both shuddered, in search of relief from the stimulation. Draco stood on the grate and looked down at Harry.

"Look at me. _Look at me!_ " Harry lifted his head. He was panting heavily, every nerve ending in his ass was firing full-throttle and his aching cock stood at full mast. He was desperate for relief. "You want it, don't you? Say it!"

"Y-yes!" he panted. Adrestia shuddered and the hook seated itself deeper. He squirmed and she moaned. "Fuck!"

" _Corporis Connatus!"_ Draco made a swishing motion with his wand, just below his waistband. A realistically formed replica of his cock appeared in his hands. Harry's eyes went wide.

"Bloody hell!"

"Beautiful isn't it? _Everything_ you've been dreaming of!" Draco stroked it as if it were truly himself. "So, here's how the game goes… _Open!_ " Harry opened his mouth and Draco pushed the dildo in. "How far can you take it? Oh, damn! I can't wait for you to get those pretty lips around me for real!"

Draco moved the dildo in and out. Harry took a breath and relaxed as the surprisingly warm cock nudged his throat. He groaned around it, closing his eyes.

" _Don't_ drop it! If you do, our darling girl stays in the box." Harry tightened his lips around it. " _Dolor Sempra!_ "

The sudden charge that shot through Harry's groin caused him to jerk, the movement forcing his arms higher. Adrestia let out a muffled cry as she spasmed, pulling on the hook. He moaned. The stimulus stopped abruptly, and both relaxed, panting desperately. A few seconds later, another charge shot through him. He shuddered, frantically trying to hold still, and clenched his jaw around the dildo in his mouth.

"Let's up the ante shall we?" Draco sneered. Harry groaned. Adrestia fairly screamed behind her gag. He pointed his wand at her. " _Instigosempra!_ "

She bucked and writhed as she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut. Each movement tugged the hook in Harry's ass. He tried to wriggle closer to the grate, but the armbinder's tether kept him in place. He squeezed his own eyes shut, his breathing shallow as the intermittent charges pulsed through him.

"Merlin! You are so beautiful! Both of you—my love, my consort! My fantasy!" He summoned a cane, and poked at Adrestia. She squirmed and writhed.

"Can you imagine me fucking your face, Potter?" Draco teased. He tapped the end of the dildo, relishing the look on Harry's face, and dragged the tip of the cane over his torso and down his back. He gave Harry a light tap, eliciting a high pitched squeak. "How _badly_ do you want me to fuck you, Potter?" he tapped harder, leaving a raised red line across Harry's backside. Harry moaned again, jerking in his bonds. "Do you _deserve_ to have me fuck you, Potter?" Draco freed his own cock and began to stroke it slowly. " _Agere Vivit!_ "

All of a sudden the dildo pulsed in Harry's mouth and began to move. He cried out in surprise as it slowly and deliberately thrust in and out, pushing down his throat. Draco struck him with the cane again. The charge pulsed through him, teasing his prostate. Adrestia writhed and quivered under the insistent stimulus to her clit. Harry clenched around the ball that seated inside him, persistently tugging with their every move. Draco dropped the cane and moved to stand at the opposite end of the grate, facing Harry. He began to stroke faster. The cock in Harry's mouth moved faster, pulling out further each time. Harry struggled to keep it between his lips, his arms pulled painfully behind him as the myriad sensations worked him into a frenzy.

"'Sex' is as important as eating or drinking and we ought to allow the one appetite to be satisfied with as little restraint or false modesty as the other. I'm all or nothing, Potter!" Draco's voice was breathless as he gripped himself, nearing the edge. "It's time for you to choose, Potter—domination or obedience." Draco shuddered and dropped to his knees. "Fuck! Oh!"

Harry felt the twin cock in his mouth pulse as his own muscles contracted and he strained against his bonds. Tears streamed down Adrestia's face as her muffled wails floated up into the space.

"Oh! Fuck! Fuck! Yes! Shit!" Draco cried out as his orgasm washed over him, and he spilled out, spurting over Adrestia's face. Harry shuddered as hot cum spilled down his throat and his own orgasm swept over him, his spunk spattering over Adrestia's belly.

" _Finite. Dimiserit Ligature._ " Draco panted. " _Aperto Carcere._ "

All of the bindings and restraints fell away from Harry and Adrestia, and the lifelike dildo vanished. The grate dissolved and Harry reached a trembling hand to help Adrestia out of the pit. The room transformed itself into an inviting chamber with soft lighting and a scattering of pillows on the carpet in front of a warm fire. Mimi arrived with a bowl of fruit and glasses of sparkling cider. They cleaned themselves up and reclined, feeding one another and sipping their cider.

A large bed appeared once the trio had eaten their fill, and they crawled into the luxurious bedding, limbs slack and eyelids heavy with contentment. Adrestia curled on her side and Harry wrapped his arms around her. Draco slid under the covers behind Harry, spooning into him and draping his leg over Harry's hip, his foot lightly stroking over Adrestia's lower leg. He kissed the back of Harry's neck.

"You must decide, Harry. I won't have you unless you are willing to truly be mine—give me your utter attention, think ultimately of me, care only for me. You know me like no other, Harry," he whispered. "Give in, and I will give you all of me."


	17. Hustle

Harry woke to soft kisses on his face. He opened one eye and gazed at a fuzzy image of Draco hovering over him. He summoned his glasses and blinked as he put them on.

"Good morning, starshine!" Draco smiled and offered him a cup of tea. Harry winced as he sat up and took the saucer.

"You're awfully cheerful this morning." He sipped the perfectly warmed tea.

"Are you well?" Draco asked, concern etching his face.

"I guess. You _are_ a cruel bastard."

"You deserved it. I told you that I would make you pay." Draco kicked off his shoes and climbed into the bed, pulling Harry into his arms. "It's what I am, and I don't have any plans to change soon. Harry, I want you. I said I would take you any way you would have me, but this is what I want. If you aren't _truly_ willing to submit to me, I will never allow you to kneel for me, because you'll regret it and always be wondering if I only wanted you so that I could say I screwed Harry Potter—The-Boy-Who-Lived. Tell me what you're really thinking, Harry. Do you even know how you really feel?" Harry set his teacup aside. He took Draco's hand and laced their fingers.

"I don't know, Draco. I thought coming back here would help me to figure it out. I'm still confused. Dean and Seamus said that the real reason I was always watching you in school was because I was attracted to you. I swore that wasn't true, but—" he sighed. "I didn't even think I was gay. I've never—I mean, what about Adrestia?"

"Are you attracted to her?"

"Are you kidding? You'd have to be _blind_ not to be attracted to her."

"Well, I'm certainly not blind. I also have no intention of letting her go, unless Neville chooses to make her exclusively his. It doesn't change how I feel about you—how I've always felt about you." Draco's voice was soft, and had a timbre in it that Harry didn't believe he'd ever recognized before.

"Our history, Draco. How do we get over that? All I know is the cold and aloof Malfoy, with a cruel streak."

"Why does my soul appear hard? It's because I _am_ capable of strong feelings; they lead me sometimes to go to rather extreme lengths. My apparent unconcern and cruelty are but ways, known only to myself, of feeling more strongly than others. I had to protect myself. It wasn't that I cared what people might have thought about me being bent. Most of my friends knew I was bent—but crushing on Harry Potter when You-Know-Who had my life under siege—that would have been suicide. I wasn't just protecting myself by tormenting you. How could I be sure that Crabbe or Goyle wouldn't sell me out—or Severus. He was feeding him information on you and Dumbledore you know."

"Snape wouldn't have sold you out. He was a double agent. He was feeding Riddle information that Dumbledore told him to share. Even down to killing him that night on the tower. They knew what you were up to all along, and Snape had promised Dumbledore that he wouldn't let you follow through with it. That's why Dumbledore begged Severus in the end."

"Wait—how did you know—"

"I was on the tower too, under my invisibility cloak. I saw the whole thing. Just before Snape died, he gave me his memories. I saw Dumbledore make him promise to save your soul—not to let you go through with it. Snape was protecting us too. He'd been deeply in love with my mother and he was devastated when she died. He'd vowed to protect me. He'd been so cruel to me because he knew Riddle and I had a connection and he could see into my thoughts. He didn't want him to see Snape showing me kindness."

"Bloody hell!"

"Tell me about it." Harry settled into Draco's arms. They were quiet for a while.

"You can do wandless magic."

"Yes. Why do you bring that up?"

"The first time, when you were here—I bound your hands—and when I came to Number Twelve—you freed yourself."

"I'm an Auror. We have to be able to get ourselves out of sticky situations. I know most counter-spells for binding."

"But can the other Aurors perform those spells without a wand? Can Weasley?"

"You'd be surprised what Ron can do, but no, none that I know of."

"Yet, I've had you down here twice, and you didn't attempt to free yourself."

"No."

"You wanted it. You wanted me to push your limits—to own you. Would you admit that pleasure is so much richer when it is attained through pain?" Draco scraped his teeth over Harry's neck. Harry sighed.

"Yes," he reluctantly conceded. "It's true. I—it was—there's something about it that I can't deny. It does something to me. I just don't know if that's all there is. Is that all it is for you? Is there more? Are you in love with me, Draco?"

"Are you in love with _me_ , Harry?"

"I asked you first."

"I asked you second."

"See, it's that bullshit that annoys the fuck out of me, Malfoy. Are you serious or not?" Harry sat up and moved away from Draco.

"Okay. Okay, wait!" Draco pulled him back and rolled on top of him. "I told you, it's who I am, Harry. If you want me, you're just going to have to learn to deal with it. Still, I…yes, I think—no, I know—I'm in love with you." Draco stared down at Harry. He was careful not to move. He wanted him to understand that this wasn't a casual conversation or foreplay. "Don't say it back, if you don't feel the same Harry."

"I don't know what I feel, Draco. I know I can't get you out of my head. What you do to me is unreal, and I find myself longing for it like a fiend. Still, I told you, the people who love me always get hurt. I've never had anyone in my life long enough to really know love. I'm not sure that Ginny really even loved me. I think she was in love with the idea of me—it was just lust—that's why we fell apart."

"Not because you fancy blokes?" Draco grinned.

"Oh, sod off!" Harry pushed him. Draco rocked his hips against his. Harry rose to meet him.

"No time for that now. Get dressed." Draco got up and tossed Harry's rucksack onto the bed.

"You went to my suite?"

"…And checked you out of the hotel. No need to pay 3000 dollars a night if you aren't even sleeping there. Let's go, you lazy sod."

"And where exactly are we going?" Harry asked, as he climbed out of bed.

" _First,_ we're going shopping. You have absolutely _nothing_ tasteful in that tatty old thing. Then, we're going to Manhattan to see a man about a fiddle."

* * *

Randall Willoughby carefully bit into his curried chicken salad sandwich and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. He rolled his eyes blandly at his companion.

"Do you _know_ why I come to the Russian Tea Room, every afternoon, Carl?" he asked after swallowing.

"Ah, no, sir." The young broker nervously sipped his tea.

"Because it is the only place where I can enjoy a decent champagne in the middle of the afternoon without being hounded by the idiotic plebs who always have their hand out." He eyed the young couple who'd just taken the table a few feet away from them.

"Right, Sir. However, I hardly think that an investor seeking one's returns constitutes a handout. Mrs. Simms is just asking for her initial ten thousand back and—"

"What's my personal mantra, Carl?" Randall asked, his eyes still focused on the beautiful young woman and her companion. She smiled warmly at him, her fingers fluttering to the stunning jeweled necklace around her throat.

"The only handout you're interested in is a hand with cash, sir."

"Correct. Mrs. Simms gambled and she lost—pure and simple."

"But, Mr. Willoughby, we guaranteed that—"

"I could always pay the old bat out of _your_ salary, as you won't be needing it much longer. When I return to the office, yours had better be cleaned out. Goodbye, Carl." Randall resumed his meal. Carl stared at him in shock for a moment or two before storming out of the restaurant. Randall surreptitiously watched the couple as he ate. Things did not appear to be going well. The young lady's smile was slowly fading. He adjusted his chair in an attempt to pick up their conversation.

"James, I don't understand. What exactly are you trying to say?" she asked.

"Darling, please don't make a scene. This isn't easy for me. I'm not trying to hurt you." The dark-haired young man spoke with an English accent. He raked his hand through his unruly hair.

"Really? Because, where I'm sitting, that's exactly what it looks like. How long has this been going on?" she demanded.

"Well…" he began.

"The whole time? You've been dating me this whole time, knowing that you had someone else back home?" her voice rose angrily.

"Jasmine! Please show some decorum! Do you know where we are?"

"I don't give a damn if we are at the fucking palace of Tsar Nicholas! You _lied_ to me, James!"

"Just—" He looked up.

Randall followed his gaze to see a handsome blond with shoulder-length hair entering the restaurant. He smiled and waved off the maître d' when James gestured to him, moving confidently through the room. Randall admired his bespoke tailored suit and graceful stride. He hid a grin as he took up his champagne flute. This was going to be good.

"Hello, love." The blond leaned down and placed a kiss on James' lips as he took a seat at the table, taking in her scowl. "I suppose you've told her, then?"

"Oh, this is just _grand!_ Are you _fucking_ kidding me?" she snapped. "Guess that's what I get for falling for a posh Brit."

"Jasmine, I'm sor—" James began.

"Save it! I can't believe that I actually thought you were going to propose today! God, I'm such an idiot!" She pursed her lips and dabbed at her eyes. "You know what—just go."

"Jas—"

"Go!"

"Come on, love." The blond placed his hand on James' and stood. James followed suit. He placed his hand on her shoulder as he passed. She shook it off, staring at her empty place setting.

"Fucking _bastard!_ " she swore, and removed the fancy necklace, throwing it down on the table.

"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" Randall said. She looked over at him.

"What do you care?" she glared at him. "It'd serve him right if I threw it in the Hudson!"

"But, if you do that, he wins. I'm certain a piece like that is insured against loss. What is it, Tiffany?"

"Yeah."

"May, I?" He indicated the empty chair. She shrugged. He slid into the chair across from her. "It's too bad your prince turned out to be a princess. He certainly had exquisite taste in jewelry." Randall picked up the diamond and platinum necklace, turning it over in his hand. Let me guess…twenty?"

She snorted. "Seriously? It's nearly eight carat total weight!" She held her hand out for the necklace.

"I'll give you twenty-five for it," he said.

"Twenty-five?" She gave him a derisive look. "I look like a crackhead to you?"

"Fifty."

"Fifty-thousand? Right now?"

"Cash."

"You happen to have fifty thousand dollars cash on hand?" she looked at him skeptically.

"Of course not! I'm not looking to be robbed. My bank is just a few blocks up."

"I have a class," she said.

"NYU?"

"Alvin Ailey."

" _Impressive._ There's a branch right next door. We can share a cab." She twisted her face in thought. " _Revenge_ is a dish best served cold," he said with a raised brow.

"Okay, let's go!"

* * *

"Hey! If it isn't my favorite customer!" Patricia Simms smiled as Draco and Harry entered the cheerful bakery. "I set aside some fresh scones just for you!"

"Ah, you spoil me, Mrs. Simms!" Draco leaned across the pale pink counter and gave the silver-haired woman a peck on the cheek as she passed him a neat box.

"Where have you been, young man? I thought you'd given me up."

"Do forgive me, love. Harry here has come all the way from home, and well—" Draco flushed.

"You've been _otherwise occupied._ " She grinned knowingly at Harry, who also blushed brighter than the pastel trimmings in the shop. "Well, I'm just glad you made it in one last time." She wore a pained smile now.

"One last time?"

"Ah, yes." She sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm still short on my loan. That charlatan investment manager from New York refused to pay what he owed me! It's either shut down the shop or lose my home." She shrugged. "I'll be closing up next week."

"Mrs. Simms, I'd like you to bake a special cake for me," said Draco. "Just a dainty little thing—like for one person."

"Of course I can! Tell me what you want. Chocolate? buttercream?"

"Oh, flavor doesn't matter," he said. " _But,_ I was wondering if you could make it in the shape of a Tiffany box."

"Oh, my! Will there be anything hidden inside?" she gave him a wink.

"No. No. I'll be adding a note when you've finished it." He passed her a large envelope. "This should cover your cost."

A week later, a very embarrassed Randall Willoughby would return to his office with a worthless glass necklace, having been told that he'd fallen for a basic confidence scam, to find a special delivery from Patty's Delight Bakery in Boston. Along with the Tiffany box cake, there was a note: _At least you can eat your cake._

* * *

"So, this is what it's all about?" Harry asked as he watched Draco place the remaining cash from their take into a wall safe in the dungeon. When he closed it, the safe transformed itself into a bookcase. "An eye for an eye?"

"That's a bit of an oversimplification, don't you think? What is your job as an Auror?"

"To prevent crime and bring its perpetrators to justice."

"During the war, Barty Crouch authorized the use of unforgivable curses to capture and interrogate suspected Death Eaters. Did you know that? There were innocent people who wound up subjected to the Cruciatus Curse in his zeal to bring about _justice_ by any means necessary _._ " Draco leaned against the bookcase. "It is impossible to foil every crime, to protect oneself from every criminal without being criminal too; that which dictates corrupt mankind must be corrupt itself; and it will never be by means of integrity, integrity being inert and passive, that you will maintain control over vice, which is ever active. Tell me that you never, in the past ten years, broke a rule or a law in order to get to the truth or exact justice."

"You know that I can't, especially since it was your utter delight to catch me out on more than one occasion. I have to give you credit for your tenacity, despite the fact that it backfired on you right from first year," Harry smirked, remembering their detention with Hagrid.

"Just when I managed to get you alone, and that creature had to go and attack you."

"That _creature_ was Riddle," said Harry. Draco shuddered.

He moved away from the shelf and the room transformed itself into a comfortable parlor. A bottle of wine and a tray of fruit and cheese with crackers appeared on a table in front of the settee.

"Come, sit with me." He took Harry's hand.

"How did you manage to get it to provide food?" Harry asked.

"It doesn't. We did manage a charm which alerts Mimi, and she provides food when it is requested." Draco uncorked the wine and poured, offering Harry a glass. They settled on opposite ends of the couch, mirroring one another's positions—one leg drawn up, arm draped over the back of the seat.

"That's genius! I'll bet Neville wished they'd had something like that during the resistance."

"He'd said as much when we created it. The Hog's Head isn't known for its cuisine." They chuckled, each sipping his wine thoughtfully.

"Before you left Number Twelve, you warned me to remove the blood wards. How did you know? You said you weren't sure that you'd be recognized."

"I felt them when we apparated in."

"Really?" Harry gave him a curious look.

"The wards recognize you as an heir, so the blood wards don't affect you. For blood members of the family, there is a moment when the pulse quickens and one's blood feels hot. It's exceptionally brief, but you feel as if you've passed a crucible."

"And they would recognize Lucius? He's not a Black."

"But he's my father. Once a child is sired, a spouse becomes blood."

"Bloody hell! Lucius has access to my home!" Harry took a long gulp of wine.

"I doubt there's anything to worry about. He knows he owes you a life debt, and anything you do have that he could possibly desire, I hope you would have sense enough to keep locked in your vault." Draco snagged a piece of cheddar and bit into it.

"I suppose you're right." Harry plucked a grape from the bunch on the platter and ate it. He let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling. Draco hadn't spoken, but Harry knew that he would eventually steer the conversation back around to the status of their relationship or lack thereof. He knew he needed to make a decision. He just hoped that it would be the right one.

"Please don't leave," said Draco, his voice heavy with sadness.

"I left things unresolved. I can't let that stand."

"But you would leave things unresolved with me." The edge of sadness in Draco's voice turned sharp with bitterness. Harry lifted his head and looked squarely at the wizard sitting opposite him. Draco looked away.

"What makes you think I would do that?" he asked. Draco scoffed. "Draco." The blond continued to look away. "Draco, look at me." Harry discarded his glass and closed the distance between them, straddling him. He took Draco's chin and turned his face to him. "I know that we're not finished. I'm—" he sighed. "I'm not walking away from you."

"Whatever." Draco rolled his eyes and shook his head as he pushed Harry away.

"Dra—oh, sod it all!" Harry pressed his lips to Draco's, kissing him insistently. Taken off guard, Draco didn't respond immediately.

Harry leaned into him, fingers tangling in his hair, one hand on his hip. He intently kissed and nipped until Draco parted his lips and their tongues were sliding against one another, exploring the lingering taste of grapes and alcohol upon the other's lips.

Draco closed his eyes and rolled his hips upward into Harry's, but he backed away. Draco opened his eyes.

"What?" He stared curiously at Harry, who was gazing at him as he bit his lip. He took a breath and nodded slightly, then tugged at Draco's belt, opening his trousers. Harry took Draco in hand and leaned down to kiss him again. Draco rocked up into Harry's grip. Then Harry was backing away again. "No!" Draco grabbed Harry's shoulder as he lowered his head to his awakening erection.

"Yes, Draco!" Harry declared.

"No! I won't have you on your knees for me!" Draco tried to shove him away, but Harry caught his hands.

"Why not? I want you."

"Not like that!" Draco pushed against Harry, but he held his grip.

" _Why?_ " Harry demanded, frustration evident on his face.

"Because _kneeling_ is an act of submission!" he exclaimed. Draco sighed and stopped struggling against Harry. "If you kneel for me, Harry, you submit to me. You agree to belong to _me_ and me _only_. You play by my rules. I will _not_ let you do that unless you are freely willing to submit. I won't accept anything less."

Draco's gaze was direct and unwavering as he looked up at Harry. He relaxed his grip, but did not let go of Draco's wrists. Green eyes searched grey and found ambivalence warring with lust.

Draco's heart was pounding in his chest. He wanted Harry to stay. His id was telling him to bind him and never let him go, but his heart was telling him that he had to trust Harry and give him the choice. He felt like crying, but he had no intention of showing such weakness. He stared at Harry waiting for him to make the next move.

Harry knew that the Snitch was his to take and it was now or never. He pushed himself away from Draco and knelt on the floor in front of him.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" Draco sat up, eyes wide.

"What does it look like?"

"Harry, you can't!" Draco protested.

"I _know_ what I'm doing, Draco. Do you want me or not?" Harry looked up at him expectantly.

"I—" Draco faltered. "Merlin, yes!" he breathed. "Yes I do, but I—are you sure?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Harry crawled over to Draco and tugged down his trousers, grabbing his still semi-erect shaft, licking over it eagerly. "Is that clear enough for you?" he asked. Draco's response was a shuddering gasp and Harry grinned wickedly, licking his lips before he lowered his head and closed them around Draco's cock.

"Fucking hell!" Draco swore as he stared at his prick disappearing between Harry's lips. He moaned as the dark-haired wizard's tongue swirled around his head.

He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked, and Draco thrust his hips upward as he came down. Harry took a breath and took Draco all the way in, relaxing his throat against the gagging sensation. Draco moaned loudly.

"Oh, Merlin! Oh, Salazar! Oh, Morganna!" he wailed, thrusting desperately into Harry's mouth. He grabbed a fistful of black hair and held Harry's head as he fucked his mouth. "Fuck! Fuck! Stroke yourself off!" he panted.

Harry fumbled with his pants and freed his cock, nonverbally casting a lubrication spell. He gripped himself firmly, stroking fast and hard. He moaned around the mouthful of cock.

"Shit! Shit! You've been wanting this, haven't you?" Draco asked.

"Mm! Yeth! Mmmph!" Harry groaned.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this, Potter! By Nemesis, you are fucking _amazing!_ So beautiful! Ohhhh!" Draco moaned. "Fuck! Cum for me, Potter! I want you to cum while my fucking prick is down your throat! I want you to get off before I do! Oh! I'm so fucking close, Potter! I hope you're nearly there!"

Harry's eyes watered as Draco's cock abused the back of his throat. He was on the edge. He could feel hairs breaking away from his scalp as the Slytherin's unyielding grip pushed and pulled. Harry moaned, his knees trembling. He felt Draco's prick pulsing between his raw lips.

"I swear to Freya, I'll beat your arse black and blue if you let me cum before you do!" Draco threatened. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Dammit, Potter!"

Harry shuddered and groaned, and his load spilled over his hand. He gripped Draco's hip with his free hand.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Shit! Shit! Shit! Ohhhhhhhh!" Draco stiffened, pushing Harry's head down and holding it in place, his face pressed into Draco's groin. Hot spunk spilled down his throat as Draco convulsed. Harry took in a large gulp of air when Draco finally released him. "Well done, love!" Draco pulled him up by his collar and pressed his lips to Harry's.

When they'd both cleaned themselves up he gently pushed Harry back to his knees.

"Stay there, eyes on the floor." Harry complied and Draco left the room.

Adrestia looked up when Draco burst into her room where she reclined in the window seat, petting Moody as she read a book.

"He did it!" Draco exclaimed. "I need you!"

* * *

Harry waited nervously. He hadn't expected Draco to leave him so abruptly and he wondered what had happened. Harry thought that Draco had seemed pleased by what they'd done. Before he could overthink the situation and act rashly, Draco reappeared with Adrestia in tow. She knelt down and took Harry's face in her hands, giving him a gentle kiss.

"I'm so glad you chose us," she whispered and got back to her feet. "I need your wands," she said. Harry summoned his wand and Draco held out his. She took them into her hand and shivered, looking curiously at them. "Harry, you've _won_ this wand?"

"In a manner of speaking, but it belongs to Draco."

She pulled a face.

"What?" Draco asked.

"Nothing. Shall we?" She replied. He nodded. "Draco, take Harry's hand."

Draco took Harry's wand hand into both of his, one hand in his grip, the other on his wrist. Adrestia held the two wands together and pointed them.

" _Nectendam Disseminari!_ " A bright stream of silver light burst forth winding itself about both wizards. It flared blindingly for a second and sank into them both.

Draco tightened his grip on Harry's wrist. When he removed his hand, Harry looked to see a wide silver cuff on his wrist. The band was embossed with scales, and a horned serpent coiled about a red stone. He turned his wrist examining the cuff.

"The stone is alexandrite—my birthstone," said Draco. " _Lumos_ _Solem."_ He pointed his wand and a bright beam of light illuminated them. The stone's color morphed from red to green. "Emerald by day, ruby by night—a Gryffindor and a Slytherin." Draco bent to kiss his hand and Harry noticed a simple band on his little finger which also held the rare stone. "You belong to me, and I to you."


	18. Drink of Despair

_**Author's Note: Sorrry folks. I made a bit of a mistake in posting chapters. So, I'm reposting from 18 to 21. It should make more sense now. Thanks giovygio91 for pointing out my error!_

* * *

"Harry? You there, mate?" Harry heard Ron's voice the moment he arrived in the parlour. He discarded the rubber ball that served as his portkey and knelt in front of the fireplace.

"Ron. What's going on?" he asked.

"For a moment there, I wasn't sure you were home. I'm at St. Mungo's. Ginny's taken a fall—"

"I'm coming through!" Harry grabbed the floo powder from the mantelpiece and tossed a handful into the grate. A few seconds later, he stepped out into the lobby at St. Mungo's where Ron was waiting.

"What's happened? Is Ginny alright?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. She's going to be fine—" Ron was shoved aside by a reporter from the Daily Prophet.

"Mr. Potter! Are you here to see Ginny Weasley? Does this mean that you've rekindled your relationship?"

"Hey, no comment!" Ron snapped. "Back off!" He pushed the reporter away and grabbed Harry's sleeve, pulling him through the rapidly swelling crowd as people realized that Harry Potter was present.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley! Any comment? Are you happy to see your sister back with Potter?" The reporter followed them to the entrance of the ward where Ron and Harry both turned, pointing their wands.

"If you follow us onto the ward, you will be arrested and charged with harassment!" Ron threatened, showing his Auror badge. They backed through the doors, wands pointed, until the doors swung closed once more "Merlin's balls! I should've hexed him!" he declared.

"Okay, so what happened?" Harry asked as they made their way down the hall.

"Took a nasty bludger to the knee and fell from her broom in the match against Tutshill. Fortunately, she managed to break her fall before she hit the ground."

"Oh, thank Merlin for that!" Harry exclaimed. Arthur Weasley emerged from a room a few feet ahead of them.

"Harry! Good to see you, son." He smiled, but his expression was wan.

"Arthur." Harry shook his hand. "What did the healers say?"

"Well, her knee is completely shattered. She's in for a very uncomfortable day or two. Of course, she's angry as a nest of doxys."

"George was at the match. Says they got her with the Dopplebeater Defence. She's lucky they didn't get her in the head or body. It could have been truly disastrous," said Ron with a grimace.

"Do you think she'll see me?" Harry asked.

"Oh, sure. She's a bit out of it though. The healer's given her something for pain. Go on. Molly's in with her."

Harry nodded as Arthur patted his shoulder, and pushed open the door to the room, poking his head in.

"Is it okay if I come in?" he asked. Molly turned and smiled, gesturing him in. Ginny lay on the bed with her leg propped on several pillows. She grinned drunkenly.

"Come crawling back to me now I'm all banged up, yeah?" she slurred.

"Yup, that's me," Harry smiled. "So the healer says you'll be right as rain by tomorrow?" He approached the bed, placing a hand on Molly's shoulder as he passed. He leaned down and placed a kiss on Ginny's forehead. She giggled.

"There's two of you!"

"Wow! What'd they give you?" he asked. She shrugged.

"Whatever it was, it was certainly tastier than Skele-Grow," she replied with a grimace.

"You mean you don't love its warm, piquant flavor?" Harry teased. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"We can't all be healing potion connoisseurs like you, Harry Potter." She pointed her finger to poke him, misjudging the distance which he stood from the bed, and stabbing ungainly at the air.

"I'm glad to know it wasn't worse." He caught her hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Mum, do you mind giving Harry and me a minute or two?" she asked.

"Of course, love." Molly smiled broadly, giving Harry a nod before she left the room. He smiled nervously at her, certain that what she thought was going to take place was far from the truth.

"So, what's her name?" she asked once her mother had closed the door.

"Beg your pardon?" Harry looked at her in confusion. He looked back at the door to see Molly's face staring eagerly through the window for a moment before her husband and sons pulled her away.

"I'm guessing that's why you've spent so much time abroad. You met over there?" she asked. Harry gaped at her.

"I—what?"

"You look rested. You're wearing new clothes—designer by the looks of them. Very sexy." She giggled again. "And of course, there's _that_." She pointed at the cuff on his wrist that peeked from his jacket sleeve. He placed his hand over the cuff.

"Well, yes, but I—Ginny, it isn't what you think."

"It's really fine, Harry. I'm glad you're not brooding and alone."

"Ginny there's no—" Harry sighed. Her eyelids were drooping. He leaned down to kiss her forehead once more. "Rest well, love."

He squeezed her hand and turned to go.

"You deserve to be happy too," she murmured.

"What?" Harry looked back at her. Ginny's eyes were closed and her breathing was even. He left the room and joined the rest of the Weasleys, who were seated in the corridor. Molly smiled broadly at him. "She's sleeping now. Thanks for giving us a few minutes."

"Of course, love." Molly hugged him tightly. Harry gave Ron a wary glance over her shoulder as he returned the embrace. Ron shrugged helplessly.

He made his goodbyes, promising to stop by the Burrow soon. A mediwizard passed through the doors at the end of the corridor and Harry saw the reporter pacing back and forth in the lobby. It appeared that there was a photographer with him now.

"I think I'll head up and look in on Neville's parents before I go," he said, feeling only somewhat guilty for the lie, and headed in the opposite direction.

* * *

Harry stepped into the stairwell and prepared to disapparate, when the door opened one floor above. He backed against the wall, not wishing to deal with any admirers, and looked up just in time to see Lucius Malfoy enter the stairwell and disapparate in a swirl of robes. Harry's brow creased with suspicion and he went up to the next level.

"Hiya, Harry!" Ernie MacMillan smiled as Harry approached the desk. "What brings you to St. Mungo's? I hope everything is well."

"Oh, yeah, I'm well, thanks. I was just here to see Ginny. She had an accident in her match."

"Oh, dear! Nothing serious is it?" he asked.

"She'll be fine in a day or two. Did I just see Lucius Malfoy leave this floor?" he asked.

"I'm only supposed to discuss patient information with family members," Ernie said with an apologetic grimace. He opened a file and leafed through a stack of parchments, making notes every now and then.

"Well, Lucius didn't appear to be a patient to me," said Harry. "Is it Narcissa?" he asked.

"Harry, I can't. You're not family, and Lucius Malfoy is not a wizard I'd like to cross."

"I suppose I can understand that." Harry leaned across the desk. "Got time for a tea break? We could catch up on old times." Harry gave him a conspiratorial wink. Ernie pursed his lips, casting a sideways glance at the nurse sitting a few feet away.

"Sure, why not. I'm due for a bit of refreshment." Ernie took the hint and led Harry to the fifth floor where they ordered tea and took seats at a small table in a corner of the tea room. Harry cast a privacy spell and looked at Ernie expectantly.

"Narcissa was admitted early this morning."

"For what? Isn't your ward for potions and plant poisoning?" Harry asked. Ernie sighed and took a sip of his tea.

"When she was brought in, she was writhing in agony and screaming for Draco."

"Really?"

"Lucius claims to have found her like that. He believes she may have attempted to take her own life."

"You can't be serious! Narcissa would never!"

"He claims she hasn't been the same since the end of the war, and with Draco's disappearance she's been terribly depressed."

"I still don't believe it. She lived with Voldemort occupying her home for months. She's stronger than that. How did she do it, then?"

"That's the questionable thing. Like I said, when she came in, she was in terrific pain, out of her head with delirium and extremely dehydrated. We tested her blood but we aren't certain what the potion was. There did seem to be a slightly greenish glow about her lips."

"Wait, what were her symptoms again?" Harry asked. He had a suspicion that he hoped wasn't accurate.

"She was in physical pain, curled in on herself and clutching her stomach. Dehydration and delirium were readily apparent. She kept screaming for Draco, begging everyone to tell her if he was alive, then she would just say 'He is dead'. It was quite disturbing. Also, I seem to recall smelling alcohol on her breath. I think it may have been Chartreuse, the flavor is quite distinctive."

Harry sat back and let out a long sigh. He wiped a hand over his face.

"What's the matter, Harry?"

"What have—how is she now?" Harry asked.

"Well, we've been successful in combatting the dehydration. We also administered Dreamless Sleep potion when she came in, but as soon as it wears off, she's back to being somewhat fearful, and not very lucid." Ernie gave Harry an appraising look. "You seem to know something. What is it?"

"I think I know the potion that poisoned her. From what you described, it sounds like she may have ingested the Drink of Despair. It's also known as the Emerald Potion."

"I've never heard of that," said Ernie. "How do you know of it? We contacted the Auror department specialists and no one knew what it might be."

"I can't tell you how I discovered it, but it's a potion that Tom Riddle created. The thing is, Ernie, she couldn't have knowingly taken it and gotten herself into such a state."

"Are you sure, Harry? Would she maybe have mixed it with the Chartreuse?" Ernie was skeptical, but Harry adamantly shook his head.

"Ernie, trust me. There's _no way_ Narcissa drank that potion of her own volition. Even if it was disguised as Chartreuse, the effects would have taken hold of her after a few sips. She would have collapsed and been desperate for water almost immediately. The Malfoys have house elves who would surely have assisted her. Someone had to _force_ her to drink the potion."

"Merlin's pestle!" Ernie exclaimed. "Do you know if anyone has ever survived the potion?"

"Only my house elf, Kreacher. I would suggest that Dumbledore survived it, but as he was already ill, and was killed only a short time later, I couldn't say with certainty that he would have recovered." Ernie gaped at him. He held up a hand. "Don't ask."

"Well, the constitution of house elves is certainly very different than humans, so we can't rely on that as a positive indicator of recovery."

"I can tell you this much, though. The only other person I know of who died, likely succumbed not because of the potion itself, but because the only water available to him was filled with inferi, who likely dragged him to his death."

Ernie's face was a mask of horror and Harry let out another long sigh. He was certain that Lucius had something to do with Narcissa's condition, and the poison had clearly forced her to relive her experiences in the Battle when she was searching frantically for Draco.

"Thanks for sharing this information with me, Harry. I'll do some research and see what I can come up with to help her."

"Let me know how it goes. I'm going to see if the DMLE has any grounds to investigate. In the meantime, I'll be in touch. Thanks for your time, Ernie." They shook hands and Harry left Ernie to refresh his tea as he exited, heading again for the stairwell.

* * *

Harry cast a disillusionment charm and only had to wait a minute or two before the door was opened and a healer strolled past in deep conversation with a nurse. Harry slipped through the door before it swung back and made his way down the corridor, checking the names on each door. About halfway down, he found a room he'd initially thought to be unoccupied as there was no nameplate attached, but as he moved past, he heard a whimper. Harry peered through the round window in the door and saw Narcissa Malfoy. He looked up and down the hallway to be certain no one was looking and pushed open the door.

Narcissa was huddled in the narrow bed, her back to the door. Her pale hair, usually elegantly coiffed, was wild about the pillow. Harry dropped his disillusionment and moved quietly to her bedside. He flicked his wand, drawing a screen around the bed to shield them from inquiring eyes.

"Narcissa," he whispered. She started, turning to him and letting out a gasp.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" she demanded in an urgent whisper.

"Yes."

"He is dead," she declared, turning back to the window.

"Narcissa, please look at me," Harry said quietly.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" she asked again when she laid eyes upon him.

"Narcissa, the battle is over. The Dark Lord is gone. Draco is fine. He's alive."

"Draco!" she exclaimed, tears in her eyes.

"Narcissa, it's me, Harry Potter. What happened?" he asked.

"Watch over my son, Draco!" she whispered.

"I will, Narcissa. Did you mean to hurt yourself?" Harry asked.

"And will you to the best of your ability protect him from harm?" she whispered, holding her hand out. Harry took her hand and she gripped it desperately.

"Yes, Narcissa. I promise." He searched her eyes and found her pupils dilated and her gaze unfocused. He wondered if she knew where she was. She seemed to be reliving some other scene in her life in which she begged someone to protect her only son. "Would you like me to bring Draco to you?" he asked.

"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?" she demanded again.

"Yes," he replied again, frustrated that he seemed to be getting nowhere.

"He is dead," she said again, turning to the window once more.

Harry's head was beginning to hurt as her tortured memory dredged up the moment he'd awakened from death himself. He shook off the memories of the battle and turned, disapparating from the room.

* * *

He landed in the parlour and went immediately to the sideboard, grabbing a bottle of scotch and pouring himself a measure. Harry tossed it back in one long swallow, squeezing his eyes shut against the burning sensation in his throat. He breathed a heavy sigh and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before grabbing his rucksack and turning to the fireplace. Harry grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the grate.

"Ministry of Magic!" he disappeared with a whoosh, stepping into the atrium a few minutes later. Harry flashed his badge as he strode past the security wizard and made his way to the lifts, ignoring the curious stares of Ministry Employees who hadn't seen him in quite some time. He entered the lift and pressed the button for the floor where Magical Transportation was located.


	19. Worth the Wait

"Harry?" Draco stood on the landing above the foyer, looking down in confusion as Harry stood gripping a plastic daisy, his face pale. "What are you doing here? You just left."

"I, erm—Draco, we need to talk."

"About what?" Draco asked. He spoke slowly and eyed him suspiciously. Adrestia entered the foyer and looked between them both.

"What's going on? Harry, I thought you were gone."

"Please, love. Can we—" His voice wavered as he gestured to the sitting room. Draco started. Had Harry just called him 'love'? He rushed down the stairs and followed Harry into the sitting room. Adrestia followed and stood leaning against the door frame.

Harry couldn't meet Draco's eyes as he joined him on the Chesterfield. He worried his lip staring at the Malfoy crest embroidered on Draco's fine velvet slippers.

"What is it, Harry? You look unwell." Draco leaned towards Harry and placed a hand on his knee. Harry gripped Draco's hand tightly.

"I'm fine. I just, erm." He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, finally looking into the silver eyes. "I need you to come back to London with me."

Draco smirked. "Miss me that much already?"

"No—I mean, yes, but—that's not why I'm here." Harry sighed heavily.

"Harry what's going on? I'm not going back there without a reason. I can't."

"You have to, Draco. It's important. There's something you need to know. I—Merlin, I don't know how to say this!" Harry stood and began to pace.

"You _stitched_ _me up_ , didn't you?" Draco got to his feet and confronted Harry.

"No!" Harry protested. "Draco, you have to come _now!_ It's your mother."

* * *

Harry fell to his knees and vomited the moment they arrived at Number Twelve. He squeezed his eyes shut against the spinning room and evacuated his stomach again.

"Kreacher!" Draco called out. Adrestia knelt beside Harry and kneaded the back of his neck. The house elf appeared immediately and bowed. "Master Harry has portkey sickness. We need a damp cloth and a tonic."

"Right away, sir." Kreacher snapped his fingers and disappeared. Draco removed Harry's glasses while Adrestia cast a spell to clean up his mess.

" _Obscuro!_ " Draco flicked his wand and Harry's eyes were covered.

"Oi!" Harry exclaimed. "What are you playing at?" He retched again, but managed to keep his stomach.

"It's portkey sickness. You shouldn't have traveled so many times so soon," Draco replied, helping him to his feet and carefully guiding him to the sofa. "This will keep the dizziness at bay until your vestibular perception and your visual perception are back in sync." He helped Harry to sit and rested his head on his shoulder, gently stroking the unruly black hair.

Harry hated being unable to see, but the spinning sensation was still with him, even in the darkness. He gripped Draco's shirt, certain that he was ruining the fine fabric, as he willed his spasmodic stomach to relax.

"Oh, _Merlin!_ Just kill me now!" he muttered. Kreacher returned with a goblet filled with a fizzy golden liquid.

"Here, drink this." Draco lifted the goblet and pressed it into Harry's hand, guiding it to Harry's lips. The bubbles tickled Harry's nose as he drank.

"Ginger beer?" Harry screwed up his face in surprise.

"It's the best thing to settle your stomach. Now, drink," Draco commanded. Harry did as he was told, sipping slowly. By the time he'd emptied the goblet, the roiling in his stomach was beginning to subside and he belched loudly.

"Oh, pardon me!" He covered his mouth. Draco and Adrestia laughed.

"That's a good sign. Lie down on your back now." Draco eased him down, head in his lap, and Harry felt a cool damp cloth being pressed to his forehead.

"You're meant to be on your way to St. Mungo's, not tending to me," said Harry. He tried to sit up. Draco pushed him back down.

"We'll go as soon as you've got your legs back. I've been gone to ground for over a year. I can't just suddenly show up there alone. I need you."

Harry sighed, wishing that he could see Draco's face. There was a reason that Draco didn't want to be in country. Harry was certain that whatever Draco was afraid of had something to do with Lucius, and he wasn't about to let Draco go alone. Kreacher brought tea for Draco and Adrestia while they waited for Harry to recover. After about a half an hour Draco removed the blindfold, but refused to allow Harry to sit up or have his glasses. Finally, after another thirty minutes had passed, Harry insisted that they get going. He freshened up and Draco changed into traditional wizarding robes.

"I can't very well show up to St. Mungo's in muggle clothing. No one has ever seen me like that, have they?" Draco replied, adjusting his cravat, when Harry inquired.

"No one's going to _see_ you at all," said Harry, holding up his invisibility cloak.

Harry closed the floo and Kreacher was instructed not to allow anyone access to the house, including Ron and Hermione. Adrestia would stay behind, as her presence would raise questions.

"Just don't disturb Mrs. Black's portrait. She's batshit crazy," said Harry. "Otherwise, make yourself at home." He covered Draco with the cloak and they disapparated.

* * *

They landed in the stairwell, and Draco adjusted the cloak to be certain that he was completely concealed. He followed Harry onto the ward where they found Ernie emerging from Narcissa's room.

"Harry! Back so soon? You look a bit peaky. Are you well?"

"Oh, yeah! Yeah, I'm fine. How is she?" he asked, waving off Ernie's concern.

"Well, I had a bit of a brainstorm after we talked. With the information you gave me, I decided to try a small dose of Wiggenweld Potion. I wondered if it might work the same way as it does to counteract absinthe hallucinations. She's already more lucid, but still a bit nervous."

"Has Lucius been back or had any more to say about what he thinks might have happened?" Harry asked. He felt the fabric of his cloak brush his hand. He gave his hand a slight twitch, brushing against Draco's fingers underneath. Ernie shook his head, frowning.

"No. Should I call in the Aurors?" he asked.

"No. I'll look into it myself. If you don't mind, may I speak to her? It may give me an idea of whether Magical Law Enforcement should be brought in to investigate."

"I suppose, but just for a few minutes."

"Thanks so much." Harry pushed the door open, but stepped back as he held the door. "Oh, Ernie, listen, in the interest of keeping things quiet until we have more information, do you think you can alert me if Lucius shows up before I'm done?"

"You're the one who taught me to cast a patronus," Ernie winked.

"Brilliant! I'll try not to be too long." Harry stepped into the room and approached the bed, drawing the screen in place once more. Narcissa lay in bed, clutching the covers to her chin.

"Harry Potter?" she asked.

"Yes, Narcissa. How are you feeling now?" he asked.

"I—" she looked around nervously. "I don't know. Why are you here?" she asked.

"I did make a promise to you," he said with a smile. Draco pulled the cloak away. Narcissa let out a startled yelp and edged away from them.

"Mother, it's me! It's me, Draco!" he caught her before she could fall from the bed, and sat down beside her.

"Draco? It's really you, my son!" she gasped, covering her mouth. Narcissa gripped his arms. "Tell me, do you remember the last present you ever gave to me?" her eyes searched his nervously. Draco stroked his mother's hair.

"Of course I do, Mother. It was a brooch. Goblin-made silver, encrusted with diamonds and pearls, of a dragon encircling a swan. Cygnus and Draco."

"Yes! Yes, that's right!" She pulled him tightly into her arms. "Oh, Draco, my son! My son! You look so like him—I—you can't stay here! It's not safe!"

"Mother, what happened?"

"I—I don't know. I—I can't remember," she said, nervously.

"Narcissa, pardon me but, do you drink Chartreuse?" Harry asked.

"I do occasionally enjoy a dose of Élixir Végétal de la Grande-Chartreuse in the evenings. It has helped me to relax since…" She looked away, her expression vacant.

"Do you recall if you happened to have had any last night?" Harry asked.

"I—I must have. I'm really not sure. Everything is a bit hazy." she looked back to Draco, touching his face. "I've been so worried about you, my darling! You _really_ must go!"

"But, Mother—" Draco took her hands in his, startled by the coolness of her flesh.

"Don't worry about me, my son. I will stay with him if that is what it takes to protect you."

"What do you mean?" he asked. Just then, a silvery boar took shape in the middle of the room.

"Lucius is coming!" Harry exclaimed. He threw the invisibility cloak over Draco just as the door opened.

"What are you doing in my wife's room, Potter?" Lucius Malfoy demanded. Harry heard Draco's breathing change beside him. He took a step forward and placed himself between father and son.

"I was visiting a friend and heard that Narcissa had taken ill. I thought I might inquire as to her well-being. I _do_ owe her a life debt after all," said Harry smoothly.

"Ever the _saint_ , aren't you?" Lucius sneered.

"I wouldn't necessarily go that far." Harry held Lucius' gaze. "Tell me, have you informed Draco of his mother's condition. I'm certain he would be most concerned."

"You know very well I've—" Lucius paused, eyeing Harry with wariness. "Why so concerned with my son's whereabouts?"

"I couldn't imagine what would give you such an idea, Lucius. _Should_ I be concerned with Draco's whereabouts?" Harry gave him a pointed look.

"Lucius?" Narcissa's voice was soft. "Where is Draco? Do you know where he is?"

"I must see to my wife, Potter. Kindly see yourself out!" Lucius' mask of detachment slipped into place. Harry moved to the door and opened it, turning back once more, the door wide as he held it.

"Narcissa, I hope you begin to feel more yourself again soon." Harry smiled at her before turning a cool gaze to Lucius Malfoy and leaving the room.

Harry nodded at Ernie as he passed the desk. MacMillan returned a perfunctory nod without looking up from the parchment he was reading. Harry hurried to the stairwell, relieved to find Draco right beside him. He grabbed his wrist and they disapparated.

* * *

Adrestia was waiting for them in the drawing room when they returned. She pushed a glass of firewhiskey into Draco's hand immediately, and he emptied the glass in one swallow.

"He did it! I'm sure of it!" Draco exclaimed as he began to pace.

"Draco, you need to calm down."

"He _poisoned_ my mother! Don't tell me to calm down, Potter!"

"Oh, okay, it's _Potter_ again is it?" Harry stepped in front of Draco, gripping his arms. He looked into Draco's eyes. They were glassy.

"Nobody ever cared for me except Mother." His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "She put up with that _monster_ in our home in order to protect me, but I didn't stand up for her when it counted. I ran. I ran and left her with Lucius. You were right, Harry. I am a selfish bitch." He sank into a chair and placed his face in his hands.

"Why _did_ you leave, Draco? Why is Narcissa so afraid for you to be here?" Harry asked. He knelt down beside Draco.

"He's crazy, Harry. There's something that he wants more than anything in the world."

"Do you know what it is?"

"No, but—" Draco's voice hitched. He worried his lip. "He plans to _sell_ me in order to obtain it," he whispered. Adrestia dropped her glass, the fine crystal exploding into a shower of shards. Harry gawped at Draco in shock.

"What? He can't do that!"

"Yes he can. I have no choice to whom I am betrothed. There are magical marriage contracts that are as binding as an unbreakable vow. I would be trapped for life."

"I won't let that happen. Trust me." Harry kissed him. "Adrestia, look after him. I need to go out for a few hours." He gave her a peck and disapparated.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Adrestia said, settling at his feet. "Is that why you told me to ask Neville when I begged you to bring me to England for a visit?" She placed her hands on his knees.

"Yes," he admitted.

"You're not using Harry are you? This isn't some elaborate long con to get back at Lucius and get yourself out of this situation is it?" She gave him a hard look.

"How could you think that, Adrestia? Why do you think I tried so hard to get him to stay in Boston? For Merlin's sake, I _love_ him! I would _die_ for him! I can't lose him again! I can't!" He looked away, not wanting her to see the tears on his face.

"Shhh!" Adrestia drew him into her arms. She kissed the top of his head and stroked his hair, climbing into his lap. "It's going to be okay. We'll work something out. Don't worry, baby." She kissed down his jaw and brushed over his lips as she unbuttoned his chemise and loosened his cravat. "Let me help you forget for a while?" She continued to kiss him.

Draco slid his hands over her backside and lifted away her dress, revealing the lace bustier and garter belt she wore with ultra-sheer black stockings from La Perla. She pulled him in until his face was in her cleavage, inhaling the scent of vanilla—her favorite essential oil fragrance. He lifted her and adjusted his trousers. She slid down on top of him, rolling her hips.

* * *

"Harry!" Ron leapt up from his desk to greet his best friend as he entered the cubicle they shared in the Auror Office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "So does this mean that you're back?" he asked hopefully.

"For the meantime at least," Harry replied, settling behind his own desk.

"Why the sudden return?" Ron asked, settling back into his chair.

"I need to draft a warrant for Draco Malfoy's arrest."

* * *

Harry found Draco and Adrestia in his room when he returned. They had magically expanded the elegant canopy bed and were curled up beneath the damask comforter. He quietly changed into his nightclothes and slid under the covers behind Draco, wrapping his arms around him. Draco kissed Harry's hand and laced their fingers.

"Didn't mean to wake you," Harry whispered.

"I wasn't asleep." Draco turned to face Harry, their foreheads touching.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," Harry said.

"No, you should know. I don't want this thing between us." Draco sat up and nudged Harry out of the bed, looking back at Adrestia. "Let's go somewhere else."

Harry led him down to the library where they settled in the window seat nestled between the sets of tall French doors that opened onto the terrace. Draco looked out at the gurgling fountain that shimmered in the moonlight.

"I never knew that was there," he said, wrapping Harry's arms about him.

"Nor did I, until the ivy was cleared away. I've still got a fair bit of work to do on the aviary though." Harry lifted Draco's hands to his lips. "Talk to me."

Draco sighed and said nothing for several minutes.

"There are a lot of pureblood traditions. Most members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight no longer subscribe to the more ancient ones, but a few of the older families still hold to them."

"The Blacks and the Malfoys?" asked Harry.

"And a few others. Only a handful of them are still extant since the war, what with Death Eaters going to prison and others being killed. One of the oldest traditions is of course to marry into a family of good breeding and social standing in order to ensure continued blood purity. When a pureblood wizard receives his birthright, he is expected to marry immediately and build his estate. If he doesn't marry within two years of receiving his birthright, he forfeits his stake in future inheritance."

"If you don't marry, you lose everything?" Harry asked.

"Not exactly. I keep what has been transferred to me by birthright, but I lose any assets I might inherit when Lucius dies—Malfoy Manor, the apothecary, any other properties or possessions in the Malfoy vault—unless he changes his will. However, since there are no other heirs, if he dies before Mother, she can write a new will and bequeath those assets to me if she so chooses."

"I see. So if you don't marry by your birthday, you are disinherited?"

"Essentially, yes. I wasn't concerned about that, actually. I received quite a substantial sum of gold and assets when I turned seventeen—one such asset being the vineyard and winery. Fortunately, the Ministry didn't seize those for reparations. I suppose I have you to thank for that. I must admit, I did learn quite a bit from Lucius about business and that has kept me from squandering my fortune as some of our classmates have already done."

"But if Lucius has his way, you'll marry anyway. Is it because you fancy blokes?"

"I don't know that he is even aware. However, pureblood families frown upon same-gender marriages because they don't produce an heir."

"But you can adopt, or—I don't know—do mages hire surrogates?"

"What? Surrogates? I've never heard of such an idea. Adoption would be a possibility, but pureblood children are rarely offered for adoption, unless they'd been orphaned through some tragedy. Then, they'd still only bear the family name on paper. To wizards like Lucius, only a blood heir will do."

"Pureblood supremacists." Harry scowled. Draco nodded, a regretful expression on his face.

"I hadn't initially planned to leave. I thought that he would try to restore some respectability to the family and arrange a betrothal to one of the Greengrass sisters or even Pansy. I might have tolerated that. We all know our duties and wouldn't necessarily be put out by the occasional dalliance on the other's behalf, so long as I sired an heir."

Harry raised a brow, but said nothing. He wasn't certain he'd care to be anyone's fancy man. That Draco could be so casual about it was astounding.

"It's what our parents did and their parents as well," Draco continued.

"Your mum has a lover?" Harry was shocked when Draco nodded. "Pardon me for saying—Lucius maybe—Narcissa doesn't seem the type." Draco snorted.

"Well, Lucius has had a few, not the least of which was that _hag,_ Alecto Carrow."

"Ugh! Merlin!" Harry exclaimed.

"And I'm fairly certain he'd even had one on a time or two with Auntie Bella," he added with disgust. "Mother doesn't know that I was aware of her secret, but I saw them together once while Father was in Azkaban."

"Really? Please tell me she wasn't into Amycus Carrow!" Harry said. Draco adamantly shook his head.

"I heard him say to her once that if he couldn't have the flower of his heart's deepest yearning, a lovely daffodil would happily fulfill his carnal desires," said Draco.

"I don't—wait—you mean, _Snape?_ " Harry exclaimed. "Bloody _hell!_ "

"How did you guess?" Draco glanced up at him.

"It's a long story—one for another time," he said before Draco could inquire further.

"At any rate, I thought I might do the same. Pansy and I had actually discussed it once, a few years back, when we thought that our fathers were brokering some kind of deal." He pulled Harry's arms closer around him and looked out of the window. "Only, in the end it wasn't Pansy. I heard Lucius and Mother arguing one evening after dinner. As I had previously told you, he wanted to enroll me at Durmstrang to complete my education, but he'd also orchestrated a betrothal. Apparently Theodore Nott has a sister."

"Does he? I thought he was an only child," said Harry.

"As did I, because the elder Nott hadn't remarried after Theodore's mother died, but evidently his mistress had fallen pregnant around the same time as Theodore's mother. The girl was raised in France and attended Beauxbatons." Draco sighed. "I suppose she's handsome enough, but I don't know her, and I don't want to be connected to the Notts. Imagine—a father-in-law in Azkaban! How would that help my reputation? It was embarrassing enough when Lucius was there!"

"You couldn't get to know her?" Harry suggested. "We both know that what's in a name is not always what we first think."

"Are you saying you'd rather I marry and leave you?" Draco sat up and looked at Harry. "Don't you want me?"

"Of course I want you! I don't want to share you with anyone either—least of all a wife, but you said—" Harry was confused.

"I said I'd discussed it with Pansy, and I thought it might even work out with Daphne or Astoria. We were friends. It might have been considered a love match even. This is different!"

"How? All of these pureblood trivialities are so ridiculous!"

"They aren't _trivialities,_ Harry! Pureblood traditions are a serious matter! Lucius and Nott wrote a _blood betrothal!_ "

"A what?"

"A regular marriage contract is just that—it's a legally binding document. There are loopholes and ways around it, and divorce is even allowed. A blood betrothal is like an unbreakable vow. Once the contract is signed, the marriage _must take place._ Infidelity is not allowed—even if the spouses have an arrangement. The marriage contract is signed with a Black Quill. It can only be broken if the one of the spouses _dies_."

Harry stared at Draco aghast. He rubbed the back of his hand, the memory of his own experiences with the Black Quill, still fresh in his mind and forever etched into his flesh— _I must not tell lies._

"You can guess what happens if any of the agreements in the contract are broken. I would _happily_ give up the Malfoy fortune before I sign that marriage contract! I care deeply for Adrestia, but I'm sure that she could go on without me. She'd probably stay with Neville. However, you, Harry— _you_ are the one I love and _you—I will never give up again!"_

"That's why he's so adamant to find you—whatever it is that he wants from Nott hinges upon your signature on the marriage contract."

"Yes, Harry. Yes! Mother doesn't agree with the contract. She'd never force me to do such a thing. That's why she said I had to leave. If he finds me, I'm done! Lucius will lock me in that chamber beneath The Manor until I sign! I won't let him have control of my life again!" Draco turned and grabbed Harry by his shirt. "I _won't_ let him take me away from you! I swear by Merlin and Salazar, I'll _destroy_ him first!"

Harry took Draco's wrists and he released his shirt. He pulled him into his embrace, noticing how he trembled with anxiety and rage. Harry stroked his back and kissed along his neck.

"Don't worry, love. We'll sort it. I promise." Harry kissed along Draco's jaw until their lips met.

Draco kissed him hungrily, crushing their lips together and plunging his tongue into Harry's mouth. Harry whimpered, tugging away Draco's tee. They paused only briefly to relieve one another of their shirts and immediately resumed their fervent caressing. Draco pressed until Harry was on his back. They wriggled their way out of their pants. He kissed his way down Harry's chin and throat, scraping his teeth over his collarbone. Harry lifted his hips beneath Draco's with a moan. Draco looked at him. His emerald eyes were half-hidden beneath heavy eyelids, his chest heaving with heat and desire. Draco rocked his hips down against Harry's.

"I want you Harry." He whispered. "I need you." He kissed him, and leaned to nibble on his earlobe. "I want to make love to you." Draco felt the rise and fall of Harry's chest stutter as his breath hitched. He lifted his head to look into his eyes. "I love you, Harry Potter. Please let me make love to you." Draco worried his lip as he stared down into the green eyes that had haunted him since he was eleven years old. Harry responded by spreading his legs and lifting his knees.

" _Resigno Apertus!_ " Harry whispered, and let out a soft gasp as the sensation of opening himself washed over him. Draco, stunned by the act and the realization that he'd forgotten his wand, hesitated. "I'm ready," said Harry in a tremulous voice.

Draco recovered himself, shaking his head, and began to kiss down Harry's torso. He teased his hard cock, licking down the shaft as he continued making his way between Harry's legs. He circled his tongue around his balls while he pressed a finger inside him. Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

"It's okay, my love. Just relax." He moved his finger slowly inside his slick ass, working it in and out, pushing deeper each time.

"Ohhh, Merlin!" Harry exclaimed as Draco reached his prostate. He lifted his hips, pushing against Draco's finger. Draco pressed another finger inside. "Mmmmm!" Harry moaned.

"Do you really want me, beloved?" Draco asked. He stroked his burgeoning erection.

"Yes!" Harry breathed. Draco whispered a lubrication spell and stroked his slick hand over his dick, hovering over Harry. He gazed down at him. Harry returned his stare, lips slightly parted.

He touched his head to Harry's opening and the Gryffindor flinched. Draco leaned down and brushed his lips over his. He pressed in slowly, Harry's tight heat enveloping him.

"Mmmmm! Fuck, you don't know how I've waited, dreamed and fantasized about this moment!" Draco exclaimed breathlessly. He twitched inside him, eliciting a high pitched murmur from Harry. Draco rested Harry's ankles against his shoulders and began to move.

"Oh my—oh, yes! Fucking Merlin! I—you—Draco!" Harry fumbled for coherent speech as Draco filled him, his cock caressing his prostate.

"Oh, Salazar, Harry! Mmmmm! I love you! I love you!" He moved faster, his midsection clenched as he neared climax. Harry wailed, lifting his hips to meet him as he stroked his prick.

"Shit! Shit! Shit! Fucking Godric's sword! Draco! Draco! Draco! Draco! Oh! Ohhhhhh!" Harry arched his back, convulsing as he came, clenching around Draco's shaft.

"Oh! Oh! Aaaahhhh! Aaaahhhhh!" Draco shuddered violently, jerking his hips as he climaxed. He collapsed into Harry's arms.

* * *

Adrestia snuggled against Harry as he slipped under the covers behind her and pulled her close. She felt the bed dip again as Draco slid in behind Harry, draping his leg over Harry's hip and teasing the back of her calf with his foot. She smiled, listening to the whispered declarations in the darkness.

"Thank you for coming back to me, Harry." Draco kissed the untidy mop of black hair.

"Thank you for waiting, Draco," Harry whispered.

 _So glad you finally found each other,_ she thought.


	20. Putting Up the Mark

_**Just a short chapter to tease your appetite!_

* * *

"That unbelievable fucking… _bastard!_ " Draco exclaimed the next morning, bringing his fist down on the polished surface of the dining room table. Harry and Adrestia stared at him.

"I beg your pardon?" Harry said, giving him a baleful look.

"I _told_ you that he did it!" Draco declared. "Furthermore, I think I just realized _why!_ "

"I know that we're legilimens, but I think we'd prefer if you just told us," said Adrestia. Harry nodded his agreement.

"You were there, Harry. Remember, she said 'I'll stay' if that's what it takes to protect me."

"Narcissa was going to leave Lucius!" Harry exclaimed.

"Okay, but why would that warrant an attempt on her life?" asked Adrestia.

"Because, if she leaves him, she takes her bridewealth," Draco replied.

"Ohhh!" Adrestia's eyes were large. "I didn't know they did that over here," she said.

"What's bridewealth? Is that like a dowry or some such?" Harry asked.

"In pureblood society, the bridewealth includes the dowry. I'm sure that you have no doubt Mother brought a significant dowry to her marriage, but her contract also required Father to provide a bridewealth payment to Mother. These are assets and gold which are her sole legal property—Lucius has no control over the use and expenditure of this fortune or interest earned towards it. When I took my birthright, I received my own vault which meant that Lucius no longer had claim on any of those assets or gold..."

"A loss on his accounts, basically." Harry sipped his juice.

"Exactly. In magical society, wives are not required to return bridewealth in the event of a divorce. If Mother leaves him, her fortune and mine together are a loss of up to two-thirds of his wealth. By the way, I don't think he ever intended to kill her," he said.

"Why? He wants to keep control of the money, right?"

"Yes, but like I said, Mother has exclusive control of those assets. They don't become his property at her death."

"It becomes yours!" exclaimed Adrestia.

"Yes. Furthermore, Mother has assigned one-third of her fortune to be paid as bridewealth to my future spouse. If I don't marry, the assets fall under my control. The only other signatory authorized to make decisions regarding Mother's assets is me. In fact, when Lucius goes to Gringotts, he'll discover that I'm the deputy appointed to see to mother's property and financial affairs since I became of age. Additionally, my signature has been required for withdrawals or transfer of any assets valued in excess of one thousand Galleons for quite some time. Mother rarely spends that kind of money, and Father has always paid for whatever she wanted or needed, so she's had no need for my signature."

"This has all been a ploy to draw you out," said Harry. "He knew someone would get word to you that your mother was in danger. She's the one reason you would choose to return."

"Precisely."

"It still doesn't explain how he got Narcissa to take the Emerald Potion," Harry pointed out. Draco dropped his fork and stared at him.

" _That's_ what she took?"

"Well, yes. I thought I'd told you. Wait, you know about—"

"The Dark Lord entrusted him with phials of his potions, and he hid them at The Manor." Draco shook his head. "That son of a bitch! Harry, you should never have secured his pardon. He's a bastard, a conniving, evil bastard!"

"Draco, calm down, darling. We'll get him," Harry chided.

"Oh, I'm going to get him alright," said Draco, rising from the table. Sparks flew from his wand as he snatched it up. "He won't even see it coming!"

"Draco, this isn't Boston. You can't do things your way," said Adrestia.

"Can't I?"

Harry left the table and went to Draco, gripping his arms.

"Listen, until we can come up with proof, or get him to admit it, we have to proceed carefully. You and I both know how slippery Lucius can be. Just try to calm yourself and trust me." Harry gazed into Draco's eyes, they were stony. "Adrestia's right. This isn't Boston. This is _my_ town."

Draco looked deep into Harry's eyes, a wicked sneer curling his lips.

"Even better!"


	21. Roping the Mark

Her robes were a peculiar shade of blue that shimmered when she moved. The backless gown swept the floor in the back and was embroidered from the waist to resemble a peacock's train of covert feathers. The gossamer Hanfu sleeves also featured elegantly painted images of the regal peafowl. All eyes were upon the dark-skinned witch as she glided gracefully through the main dining room of the White Thestral.

Lucius Malfoy peered surreptitiously over his menu as the maître d' proffered her chair at the next table. She smiled as she sat with a slight nod of her head. The obscenely high slit in the skirt fell aside providing an ample view of long, lean legs which she crossed as she accepted a menu and began to examine it. He forced himself to look away when the waiter appeared to request his order. He really shouldn't, he chastised himself, what with Narcissa still in St. Mungo's. It was not that he'd never had his dalliances—though it had been a while. He suspected even his wife had taken a lover, so disinterested had she become long before The Dark Lord had taken over The Manor. In fact, he'd been practically celibate since the end of the war. Narcissa barely deigned to speak to him over the breakfast table. She blamed him for their loss of social position. She blamed him for Draco's disappearance. He also found that mistresses weren't so much interested in rogue wizards these days, no matter how wealthy they were. Besides, this witch barely looked to be of age.

When the waiter moved away, he saw that she was staring at him.

"Yes?" he said, coolly.

"I'm sorry. For a moment, I thought you were someone else," she said, turning back to her menu.

She wasn't English. Her accent gave her away as American, but she didn't have the crass boorishness he'd seen in other American wizards. One would think that as sheltered as their society had been for so long, that they'd exhibit a higher level of class. Although he hadn't visited the country, he'd found those he'd encountered in Europe were almost as gauche as muggles.

"I find that quite intriguing," he said, tossing his hair. "Few people ever mistake me for someone else. When they do, it is only ever for one person."

"Really?" She didn't look up from her menu.

"I hardly think you'd know my son," he said.

"I doubt it," she replied. Her waiter arrived. "I'll have the wellington please. Cabernet Sauvignon—Fuoco Serpentino if you have it. Do _not_ bring me anything over eighteen degrees."

"You know your wines," he observed.

"I do appreciate a good vintage. We're not all philistines in America, sir," she replied, coolly.

"Of course not." This one reminded him of someone—well sisters in fact. She had a refined elegance much like Narcissa, but there was a sultriness about her that was all Bellatrix.

Lucius lamented that his departed sister-in-law had spiraled to such a level of murderous dementia and bloodlust—leading her to an affair with the Dark Lord himself before her eventual demise. She'd been an ardent lover who barely heeded the fact that she was betraying her own sister. Their meals appeared without delay, and the witch tucked in without another word to Lucius.

"Perhaps I could persuade the lady to join me for dessert," he suggested, noting that they finished their meals at the same time.

"Dessert is lovely," she said. "A nightcap would be better." She smiled seductively and dropped several gold coins onto the table.

* * *

He escorted her to a building on Great College Street where he tapped his wand against a stone bas relief of a sword. A gilded plaque appeared on the plain black door that read _Nimue's Cup—Members Only._ The door swung open.

"Welcome, sir!" squeaked a house elf in a velvet toga. "Will you require accommodation or will you be visiting the salon?"

"The salon is sufficient, a private space please," he replied.

The elf led them through an opulently decorated room where well-dressed wizards and witches socialized over drinks in couples and groups. Around the perimeter of the room were small seating areas shrouded by curtains. The elf ushered them to one of these areas in the farthest corner of the room. The young witch took a seat in one of two elegant chairs and Lucius sat on the loveseat across from her.

Another elf appeared and asked what they would like to drink. Lucius requested brandy.

"I'll have Sazerac," she said. The elf gave her a curious look and she produced a small slip of parchment. He took it with a nod before disappearing.

"Sazerac?" he asked.

"A classic American mixed drink—cognac, bitters, sugar and absinthe."

"Absinthe? My! The lady lives dangerously," he said.

"There is hardly enough of the green fairy to constitute a threat to my mental acuity," she replied.

"I see. So, what brings you to England? On holiday or business?" he asked.

"Work," she replied.

"Really? And what exactly is it that you do?" Lucius inquired.

"I'm not generally in the habit of giving out such information to gentlemen I hardly know," she said, her voice cool. The elf reappeared with their drinks. She accepted the goblet and took a sip.

"Of course. Where are my manners? I am Lucius Malfoy. And you are?" he asked as the elf withdrew, and the drape fell closed, concealing them in the space.

"Giselle—Giselle Duminy de Glapion."

"Mademoiselle, it is an honor." He raised his glass. She inclined her head, raising her own.

"And what do _you_ do Mr. Malfoy? Independently wealthy?"

"I have interests in a few successful business ventures," he replied.

"Of course." She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"And you?" he asked. "What type of business is it that brings you to London?"

"I'm a retrieval specialist." She sipped her drink, settling back in her chair and crossing her legs. Lucius couldn't help but let his gaze travel from the satin shoes up the stockinged legs to where the split in the skirt concealed her most intimate secrets.

"A retrieval specialist?" he eyed her warily. "You're a thief." She raised a brow.

"I take offense to such a characterization, Mr. Malfoy. I locate items and people that others do not wish to be found."

"For a fee of course," he said.

"Naturally." She regarded him over the rim of her glass as she drank. She had him hooked. He was regarding her with an assessing gaze, and she would make certain to control its direction. "I have an exceptional success rate," she said, lightly fingering the jeweled necklace that she wore.

"Is that…the Dragon's Eye Emerald?" he leaned forward to examine the jewel.

"Is it?" Her face was impassive.

" _Specialis Revelio!_ " he touched his wand to the stone. "Salazar! It's the _original_ item!" he exclaimed. "But—The great Harry Potter, _robbed?_ " Lucius sneered.

"Ah, no—that isn't quite the case," she said.

"Isn't it? Do tell!" he sipped his brandy.

"I'd love to, if I had a death wish."

"You've made an unbreakable vow. You _are_ quite confident in your abilities."

"Well, it's certainly not a career for the faint of heart." She swirled the contents of her glass. "but there are certain… _perks_ that make it worthwhile." She emptied the glass and set it down on the table between them. Lucius' gaze fell upon the valley of her exposed cleavage as she leaned forward. She caught his eye, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "It's been a pleasure chatting with you Mr. Malfoy, but time is money, and I really must be going." She gracefully unfolded herself from the chair and he stood to help her into her cloak before she stepped through the curtain and exited, drawing the stares of quite a few as she crossed the salon.

Lucius finished his brandy and called for his bill, reaching into his pocket for his money purse. He was astonished to find his pocket empty, and checked the other to discover only his wand.

"Master Malfoy's bill has been settled," announced the elf when he appeared.

"What did you just say?" he stared disdainfully at the creature, who bowed nervously.

"There is nothing owed. The witch settled Master's bill," he said, handing Lucius a slip of parchment. He snatched it with an arrogant huff and unfolded it.

 _London Library, 14 St. James Square S.W.1_

 _Seventh Floor Stacks_

 _2:00 p.m._

The elf shuddered and cringed, watching the wizard's face turn crimson as he read the note. Lucius growled, crushing the parchment in his hand before he swept angrily out of the private club.

* * *

The salesman pulled an appreciative face as the vintage bike rolled to a stop at the curb and its two riders strolled purposefully towards the Triumph area of the large showroom.

"That's a beautiful machine you've got there," he said to the dark-haired young man who'd been the operator. "Looking to trade up?"

"Thanks, but no. It's pretty special to me," he said.

"Dad's?" the man asked.

"Godfather's. He was—erm, died a few years back."

"Oh. Sorry to hear that. Well, I can certainly understand your desire to hold on to it. Ted Blakely." He passed the young man his card. "How can I help you fellas today?"

"My friend here is interested in purchasing." He indicated the posh-looking, long-haired blond who walked slowly amongst the bikes, examining them closely.

"Ah. As you can see, we have quite a selection. The new Bonnies will debut in the fall. Have you driven a motorbike before?"

"I think I'm quite qualified," he replied. "You say the new models have not been released? I was rather hoping to find one like that." He pointed to their bike outside.

"Well…we did happen to receive a T140 the other day in trade. Now, it's a 1980 model…" The two young men glanced at one another. "It _is_ a custom. The previous owner applied his own paint job, and added the traditional wire spoke wheels." He led them out of the side door to an alley along the side of the building. A row of bikes was lined up stretching the length of the passage. "She is in mint condition, however. Here she is. If you'd like to test her out, I'll need your licenses." He pointed to the bike. It was identical to the one they'd arrived on, save for the custom metallic green on chrome paint scheme adorning the tank.

"We'll take it," they both said.

* * *

Lucius stared uncertainly up at the imposing buildings that made up the London Library. He tugged smartly at the lapels of the tweed frock coat he wore and adjusted his cravat before striding purposefully to the main entrance.

"Please direct me to the seventh floor stacks," he barely deigned to look at the woman sitting at the reception desk. She gave him an equally disdainful look.

"You will find the main lift just there," she said softly. "Please be reminded, sir, to respect that others are at work, and mind your volume level." She raised a brow and used her stylus to indicate the direction in which he should proceed, as she returned her attention to the newspaper that she was reading.

Lucius pursed his lips at being so roundly chastised by the muggle woman. He tossed his hair and stalked away from the desk. He found the lifts easily enough and suffered only a short wait before a car arrived. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh.

The car stopped only twice. At the third floor, a young woman with lank black hair got onto the lift, clutching several volumes to her chest. Her face was pale and angular and she wore a rather severe-looking black suit with a starched white blouse. As she tucked her limp hair behind her ear, Lucius regarded her, thinking to himself that she rather resembled Severus Snape. If he hadn't known that the wizard had remained a confirmed bachelor to his death, he'd have thought the girl to be his daughter. She got off the elevator on the fifth floor without so much as a glance in his direction, and he remained alone in the lift until the car reached the seventh floor.

Lucius stepped out cautiously, looking around. The rows of shelves stretched in each direction, separated by narrow walkways and illuminated by low fluorescent lights which he found to be quite harsh.

He saw her some distance down the aisle directly in front of him. She smiled and disapparated just as he started towards her. Lucius glanced furtively around and apparated to the spot from which she'd disappeared, finding himself at an intersection of the passage, where he looked left and right again. He spied her stepping into an aisle a few rows up and nearly sprinted to the location. She stood examining a thick leather-bound tome.

"Did you lose something?" she asked, without looking up from the book.

He was upon her at once, wand to her throat.

" _No one_ steals from me!" he hissed.

Unperturbed, she closed the book and replaced it on the shelf.

" _First_ —you should know that I considered taking your wand, but that would be just cruel. You don't strike me as being particularly capable of functioning without it. _Second_ —clearly my presence here indicates that I am more than prepared to return your purse and the fifty galleons, ninety sickles and six knuts contained therein. And _third—"_ She finally turned her head to meet his eyes, licking her lips as she eyed him challengingly. "You also don't appear to be the indecisive type, and as you chose not to hex or curse me immediately, I can only assume that your inappropriately close proximity means that you had something else in mind."

Lucius gave her a startled look before he recovered himself with a sneer. He inclined his head towards hers. The sound of footsteps nearby caught his attention and Lucius withdrew his wand, sheathing it in his walking stick. He cleared his throat.

"Ahem. If the lady will kindly return my property, I should like to suggest a possible business arrangement."

"I don't like to discuss business in public," she replied.

"Alright then, would my estate be acceptable?"

She smiled, placing her hand on his arm. He looked up and down the aisle to ensure they were not seen, before disapparating.


	22. Welcome Home

The street was old and an air of shabbiness seemed to cling to it, though an assortment of vehicles, mostly new and high-end were parked along the curb outside of the rows of terraced brick houses. It was clear that the owners sought to stand out from the bland identicalness of the homes, with brightly painted front doors and shutters, as well as window boxes overflowing with greenery. There was at least one construction van outside of every third house and it was plain to see that the old neighborhood was undergoing a facelift. The riverbank had been cleaned up and planted with young trees and new grass. There were painted benches and inside a fence, a brightly-colored play area for children screamed its newness. The disused mill at the edge of the neighborhood was being converted into an eclectic shopping centre, banners proclaiming the coming retailers draped about the exterior.

The afternoon was relatively quiet, with only the activity of contractors and painters going about, and a few of the street's residents pushing prams or chatting on doorsteps, which is why most heads turned at the rumbling noise that shattered the peaceful afternoon as two motorcycles roared up the avenue and stopped at the curb near the middle of the street.

* * *

"Why in Merlin's name have you brought me to this place, Harry?" Draco asked, as he removed his helmet, shaking out his hair. Harry removed his helmet, raking his fingers through his hair without much effect. He picked through the ring of keys in his hand and walked up to the door of the house on the edge of a narrow alley.

"I didn't want you moping anxiously about Number Twelve. You do get right bitchy when you're bored. Come on." He unlocked the door and pushed it open.

"What do you mean I get bitchy when I'm bored?" He followed Harry into the darkened house.

"I mean just that. There's any number of people who can attest to falling prey to your cruelty simply because you and your lot lacked anything better to do with your time. Ask Neville."

They entered a sitting room with floor-to-ceiling shelves crammed with dark volumes, and placed their helmets on a nearby table. The place was stuffy from disuse, but Draco could tell that whomever the house belonged to had been scrupulously tidy. The mantelpiece above the fireplace held two silver-plated candlesticks and a single small, framed photograph. He moved closer to examine it. Unlike the candlesticks, the frame was genuine silver and held a photo of a girl wearing Hogwarts robes with a Gryffindor crest. She smiled, tucking her red hair behind her ear, and clutched the strap of her satchel. There was something very familiar about her features. He felt that he'd seen her somewhere before. Draco picked up the photo and peered closely at it. In the corner of the photo was an autograph.

"'Enjoy your holiday! Lily E.' I wonder who that is." Draco mused. "She's quite pretty."

"Lily Potter—neé—Evans. My mother," Harry replied. He stepped behind Draco and wrapped one arm around his waist, resting his chin on his shoulder, and traced a finger over the photograph. "I think this might have been taken during her third year." He carefully took the frame and placed it back on the mantel.

Realization dawned upon Draco as he looked at the girl's bright green eyes. "Was this your parents' house? I thought you said you lived in Godric's Hollow."

"We did, and no, it isn't, but my mother grew up not far from here. I never knew where my grandparents lived, but when I heard that this place was intestate, and would be going up for sale as part of the gentrification project, I had to act. I'd like to think he wouldn't have wanted just anyone tossing away his things like yesterday's rubbish—especially Mum's photo."

"Who?" Draco asked, removing one of the books from the shelf, examining the cover. _Jigger's Potion Opuscule._ He opened the cover. "'This book is the property of the Half-Blood Prince.'" He read the inscription on the flyleaf aloud, looking curiously at the neat handwriting. "The Half-Blood Prince? Sounds like a rather self-important Death Eater to me." He thumbed through a few pages, observing numerous notations made in the margins of nearly every one. "Why does that handwriting look so familiar?"

"I'd wager that at the time he wrote that, he _did_ consider himself a rather self-important Death Eater," said Harry, just as Draco discovered another small photograph tucked between the pages. The book fell from Draco's hands, but Harry caught it before the fragile volume could hit the floor and damage the binding.

"What is _this_ doing there? Is this—" Draco held the photo with a trembling hand. Harry looked over his shoulder to see why the picture's subject had unsettled him so. The pale-haired toddler bouncing in the arms of the dark-haired wizard was unmistakable. "Is this _Severus'_ house?"

"Yeah. Merlin! Is that _you,_ Draco? Look at those curls!"

"Oh, sod off!" Draco grimaced, but did not take his eyes from the picture of himself in Snape's arms.

"Aw! But you look so _adorable_ in your little lace robes!" Harry teased, snatching the photo from Draco. "Snape is almost _smiling!_ "

"Give it back!" Draco demanded, reaching for it. Harry held the photo out of reach, ducking away from him.

"Wait till Tia and Neville see _this!_ " he taunted.

"Give it back, Potter, before I hex you into next year!" Draco chased Harry around the small room, finally tackling him on the couch, a light plume of dust rising around them. He pointed his wand at him.

"Okay! Okay! I give!" Harry handed over the photograph and Draco carefully tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. "You really _were_ a cute little kid though. At least you _have_ photos of your childhood."

Draco rolled off of Harry, removing his jacket as he sat back. He stared at him in apparent bewilderment.

"Don't _you?_ " he asked. Harry removed his jacket as well, laying it over the arm of the couch, and shrugged.

"My aunt and uncle wanted no part of creating memories for me—not that I can recall a single good one anyway—and our house in Godric's Hollow was essentially destroyed when Riddle tried to kill me. If there was anything to salvage, everyone was too concerned with protecting my safety to think about memorabilia. Hagrid gave me an album of photos he had at the end of my first year. There's one or two of me with Mum and Dad, and I _did_ find a torn photo that apparently Mum had sent Sirius. I've got that, and pictures with friends, and the _dozens_ of photos Dennis gave me that Colin had taken at school, but I've virtually nothing from before Hogwarts."

"Wow. I—wow." Draco was stunned. Harry shrugged.

"Well, like I said, there's not much from my childhood that I'd like to remember. Dudley's seconds, a dusty cupboard under the stairs and dozens of beatings weren't the best of times."

"A cupboard under the stairs? Is that where you were sent for being naughty?" Draco asked. He pulled Harry into his arms, suddenly inclined to hold him close. Harry snorted.

"No, I _lived_ in the cupboard under the stairs until I went to Hogwarts. They were afraid that I would curse them when I came home from school first year, so they gave me Dudley's second bedroom—"

" _Second bedroom?_ "

"Oh, please! Like his two rooms wouldn't probably fit into your _one_ at Malfoy Manor!" Harry nudged Draco's ribs, and he nodded in concession with a shrug. "They still made me keep all of my magical possessions in the cupboard until Sirius let them know that there'd be consequences if they continued."

"Oh, my beloved!" Draco kissed Harry's temple. "I'd thought that you were adored and spoiled for being The-Boy-Who-Lived. I was actually jealous of all the attention you'd received, especially when I couldn't be a part of your life. I had no idea what you'd had to endure."

"Yeah, well…I don't want to talk about that any more. That's not why we came here. I didn't know until we arrived that you had never been here. I thought you'd recognize it immediately."

"Heavens no! Snape always visited our home as far as I knew. I always assumed he had a flat in Hogsmeade. I feel kind of guilty, now that you mention it. He was my godfather, you know."

"I heard you mention to Rafferty that your godfather threw Dumbledore from the tower. I assumed it was him that you meant." Harry traced circles on the back of Draco's hand. "I shudder to think that any of the others there that night might have been entrusted with your care." Draco scoffed.

"No doubt." They were silent for a few minutes, savoring the quiet anonymity of Spinner's End. "How do you think she's doing?"

"You'd know better than I," said Harry. "She appeared to be in one piece when she came home. I can't believe she nicked his purse!"

"I'd give my wand to have seen Lucius' expression when he realized it was missing!" Draco exclaimed.

"The frock was a stroke of genius. By Godric, did she look _amazing!_ " Harry declared.

"I knew he wouldn't fail to notice her in something like that, given his affinity for peafowl. To be honest, I do miss the shrill call of the peacocks early in the mornings. They're far too noisy and aggressive for the city though. I'm thinking of having an ostentation at the vineyard in Tuscany."

"It figures that a flock of birds _you'd_ own would be called an _ostentation!_ " Harry snickered.

"Oh, sod off!" Draco gave Harry's hair a tug.

Harry climbed into Draco's lap and began to kiss him, twining his fingers in his locks. Draco tugged Harry's shirt free of his waistband and slipped his hands underneath, scraping his nails over the skin of Harry's back.

"Have I told you how _incredible_ you look in those leather pants." Draco murmured between kisses. "Merlin! You have an _amazing_ arse!"

"You've a rather fine rear view yourself, love," Harry replied, swirling his tongue over the flesh beneath Draco's ear and eliciting a soft moan. He rocked his hips down against the blond's. Draco slid his hands down to cup Harry's bottom, pulling him closer, when they heard the ringing of the bell. Harry drew back and looked towards the door curiously.

* * *

"Who on earth?" Draco asked.

"No idea." Harry reluctantly got to his feet, wand in hand, and went to the door. Draco followed close behind.

"Oh, excellent! You _are_ home! Lucy said she thought she'd seen someone going into the house."

Draco and Harry gawped at the man standing on their doorstep. He wore a green Fred Perry tennis shirt and jacket with blue jeans, and his shoes also featured the iconic laurel wreath. A curly-haired baby wriggled in the carrier strapped to his chest.

"Forgive me! Where are my manners? I'm David Carrington. My wife Lucy and I recently moved into the house across the lane, and this is Blythe. Say hello, darling!" he took her arm and wagged it up and down. She giggled and squirmed. "We've just finished the reno, and decided to celebrate with the neighbors. It's nothing fancy. I've got a few steaks on the barbecue and a couple of bottles of lager. You're more than welcome to join us, erm…" he looked at them expectantly. Harry realized that David was waiting for them to introduce themselves. He slipped his wand into his back pocket.

"Oh! Sorry. Erm, I'm Harry, and this is Draco." Harry extended his hand. Draco managed to snap out of his own stupefaction and extend his own.

"Pleased to meet you, Harry and Draco!" he shook their hands, eyeing up their leathers. "These must be your bikes. Classic! I'd considered getting one, but then Lucy got pregnant, and there went that dream." He winked. "Guess I'll have to wait until Princess goes away to school, innit?" Harry chuckled nervously and Draco gave an uncomfortable smile.

"Alright then, Dave?" They looked across the street to see a couple with a pram approaching the bright red door of the house that faced them. David gave them a wave.

"Sure thing, Cole!" he called. "Guess I'd better get going. Come on over!" He turned, crossing the street. A woman with dark hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head opened the door and smiled at the couple as the woman lifted a little boy from the pram. She waved to Harry and Draco. They waved back.

"Ever been to a muggle dinner party?" Harry asked Draco, who gave him an exasperated grimace as he shook his head. "Oh, this oughta be a hoot!" Harry tugged his shirt and stepped onto the sidewalk.

"You can't be serious!" Draco grabbed his arm. "I was working up a rather _glorious_ stiffy, and now you want to go play with the muggles?"

"Oh, _absolutely!_ " Harry grinned wickedly. "And afterwards, you can take me home and shag me senseless!" He grabbed Draco's wrist, pulling him out of the house, and touching his wand to secure the door.

"Oh, I'm going to do _much more_ than shag you, naughty little bitch!" Draco whispered, pinching Harry's ass, and reluctantly followed him across the street where two more couples were approaching the red door as well.

* * *

"Oh, great! You decided to join us!" David exclaimed, passing them bottles of Guinness as they entered the sitting room of the house. Without the shelves of dark books crowding the room, the Carrington's parlor seemed noticeably more spacious and inviting. French doors opened to the rear terrace where a large grill smoked, delicious aromas wafting into the house. "Everyone, this is Harry and Draco from across the street at Number Twenty-Two. This is my wife, Lucy, and our friends, Adelayo and Michael Winters, Cole and Emma Martin and their son Wesley, and Deshi and Michelle Te." The couples shook hands all around.

"So, you blokes renting from Mr. Snape?" Michael asked, sipping his beer as he leaned a hip against the sideboard. Draco sputtered, but managed not to spray his beer all over the place.

"Erm, you know Professor Snape?" Harry stammered.

"I _knew_ he was a teacher!" David exclaimed, passing through the room with an empty pan. "Explains why he's only ever here during summer and at holiday."

"Dave and I grew up here in Cokeworth. This used to be his parents' house. Our family lived a few blocks over. So did Emma. I wouldn't have pegged him for a teacher, he seemed as if he didn't much care for children. Is that how you know him?" Michael asked. "Where'd you go to school?"

"Jeez, Mickey! It's not an interrogation!" his wife said, laying a hand on her arm. "You have to forgive him. It's hard sometimes for him to turn off his detective sergeant brain."

"Remind you of anybody?" Draco ribbed Harry.

"Oh, you're a copper? Are you with the Met?"

"Law school," Harry lied. "I'm hoping to land a position with CPS when I receive my full-certification."

"Wow! Well, good luck with that! Maybe we'll have the opportunity to bring down one of the big boys together one day," said Michael.

"So where is old Snape these days?" David asked, returning with the empty pan. "Seems like it's been ages since anyone's seen him. Mum and Dad couldn't remember seeing him after he left for the fall back in ninety-seven. Decided to take up residence near the school, did he?"

Harry and Draco gave each other a look. Harry cleared his throat.

"He's erm—dead—almost two years now."

A series of shocked and embarrassed gasps rang out around the room.

"Oh, goodness! I'm sorry, mates. I didn't mean to bring it up." David pulled a face. "I gather by your expressions, you were close to him. Favorite teacher?"

"He was my godfather, actually," said Draco. "Harry here _hated_ him." Draco gave a small grin, to lighten the mood.

"I did _not_ hate him. I was just rubbish at po—erm—chemistry. Snape was a rather exacting teacher, but deep down, he did actually care for his students and had very high standards for them. Draco just couldn't _bear_ the thought of his estate going up for auction, so we decided to buy the house."

"He was like a second father to me," Draco said.

"Well, with the renewal project, you picked the perfect time to buy," said Emma. "This place used to be horrid! Even the families from the estate looked down on the folks who lived here. "Worst insult you could throw at somebody was to call them a 'mill kid'."

"Tell me about it!" Dave exclaimed. "I've had more than my share of scrapes over that epithet. Mickey always jumped in to back me up though."

"Yeah. Mum almost banned me from hanging out with you because of it," Michael laughed.

The men pushed the sofas out of the way and Lucy spread a tablecloth over a pair of folding tables. Everyone grabbed a chair and a paper plate and helped themselves to the buffet set up on the kitchen counters. Draco was skeptical about the disposable dinnerware that he'd never used before. Harry whispered assurances to him that it was perfectly durable as they loaded their plates and joined the other couples at the table.

"So, Draco, what do you do?" asked Lucy.

"Oh, Draco's a member of the idle rich," Harry quipped, slicing his steak.

"I don't know that I'm exactly _idle_ ," Draco retorted, tasting his potatoes.

"Idle rich? As in mum and dad have a summer home in Bournemouth rich, or silver spoon, I know my Norland Nanny better than my mum, and I've got a title rich?" asked Michelle. Draco blushed brightly.

"Oh, my word! Lucy, you've served a member of the royal family on paper china!" Adedayo giggled. Draco demurred.

"I'm not a member of the royal family, although my third great-grandfather did aspire to the hand of Elizabeth I."

"Bloody hell!" Deshi exclaimed. "So, what are you, like a Marquess?"

"Um, no. Nothing that high; I'm actually a Viscount," he confessed, toying with the label on his beer bottle.

"Wow! Congratulations, Harry!" David teased. "If Parliament ever passes a marriage bill, _yours_ is the wedding _I_ want an invite to!"

"Oh, look! They're blushing!" Michelle teased. "How cute! How long have you guys been together?"

"Well, we met at our school in Scotland, but we've only been seeing one another very recently. Harry wouldn't have _anything_ to do with me in school."

"Harry, your eyesight must be awful, if you passed up this bloke!" Lucy teased.

"They're both quite fit, innit?" Michelle giggled.

"Harry was a bit consumed with eyeing up his best mate's sister at the time."

"Well, I admit to some distraction, but I rather thought he was an annoying, posh git," Harry replied. He laced his fingers in Draco's and kissed the back of his hand.

"I confess, I was a bit of a poncey bitch," Draco shrugged. Harry clutched his chest in mock surprise.

"My god, someone check the sky for pigs with wings! Draco Malfoy has admitted to being a poncey bitch in school!" Draco rolled his eyes.

"So how does a bloke from Spinner's End become godfather to a wealthy Viscount?" asked Michael.

"Severus was a student at our school before he became a teacher. Father was a prefect in his house."

"You know, there was a girl my mother was close to," said Emma. "She was selected to attend some exclusive school in Scotland when she was about eleven or so. Her sister was mad with jealousy about it. She took out her anger by harassing her about being friends with a 'mill boy'. I think he was also selected to go to the same school. Wonder if it might have been Snape. Mum said the Evans girls were as different as night and day."

Harry gripped Draco's thigh under the table as his food seemed to stick in his throat. He grabbed his beer and took a long swallow. Draco squeezed his hand.

"Oh, _I_ remember the Evanses!" said Michael. "Older couple, lived about two houses from us. Mum said their one daughter, Lily, I think her name was, she and her husband were killed in a car accident—no—it was a gas explosion at their house. Mrs. Evans was never quite the same after that. Mum always said she and Mr. Evans both died of a broken heart."

"Seems like I remember Mum saying that the sister was proper devastated by it all, but she and her husband took in their son and raised him with their own boy." Emma looked across the table where Harry's face had gone ashen and Draco was whispering quiet intonations in his ear. "You alright, Harry? You look a bit ill."

"I erm—" Harry was unable to speak around the lump filling his throat.

"Lily was Harry's mother," Draco said softly. Another round of gasps went up.

"Blimey! Oh, Harry! We had no idea!"

"Well, how could you have known? We've only just met. It's just kind of a shock to hear about family that I don't even really know." He took a swig of beer. "It's fine though. I'm glad to know that my mother was well-liked. She and Severus were close friends too."

Draco kissed Harry's hand, giving it a squeeze. The baby monitor squawked and Blythe could be heard whining. A few seconds later, baby Wesley began to whimper. Lucy excused herself to check on her daughter while Emma went to pick up Wesley from the blanket on the floor where he'd been napping, and deposited him in his father's lap next to Harry. A more subdued conversation took place over dessert and coffee, the couples discussing parenthood. Adelayo and Michael announced that they were trying for their first, while Deshi and Michelle said they wanted to wait a bit longer. When asked if they wanted kids, Harry admitted that they hadn't given the idea much thought, and Draco surprised Harry, saying he wasn't opposed to the idea.

* * *

The hour was quite late when they finally made their goodbyes, promising to host a get-together as soon as they'd finished their own renovations.

"That was quite an experience," Draco declared as they curled up on the couch together. They'd magically expanded it so that both could fit comfortably. Neither wizard was at ease with the idea of lying together in Snape's bed; Draco inwardly unsure if there'd ever been coupling between the professor and his mother there.

"Definitely! I never dreamed that I'd meet muggles who knew my family." He chuckled. " _Mr. Snape!_

"Just sounds wrong somehow." Draco laughed too. "Still, it's comforting to know he was respected even by muggles."

"Yeah. He deserves that." Harry gave Draco a kiss and snuggled into his embrace.

"Harry, the other night when I told you about my parents' dalliances…"

"Yes?"

"How did you work out so quickly that Severus was Mother's lover? I only said that—wait—the flower of his heart's deepest yearning—Lily—" Draco gave Harry an incredulous look.

"The real reason that Snape never really liked me is because my father bullied and tormented him throughout school. Snape was in love with my mother, but she chose my dad—James Potter, rich, pureblood, exceedingly arrogant—like someone else I could mention." He winked. "It's no wonder they disliked one another from the moment they met. When I finally arrived at Hogwarts, with my dark hair and glasses, he didn't see me. He saw his childhood tormentor, and just like you, he thought that my life up until that point had been an easy one, and that I would be just like my father."

"Oh, Harry!" Draco tightened his embrace about him.

"He saved us both, Draco." Harry shifted to look up at him. "Because he killed Dumbledore, he sacrificed his life to Riddle. If _you_ had followed through with the deed, it would have surely been your death warrant."

"I—"

"My darling, one day when I am very old, should I still find myself in your arms, I will finally share the secrets of how I managed to defeat Tom Riddle. Until that day comes, let us savor the sweet moments that this new peace has gifted us." He smiled at Draco, who inclined his head, pressing their lips together.

"Until our sunset hour," he said.

"Nox."


	23. The Convincer

"Drink?" Lucius offered when they landed in the study at Malfoy Manor. He unstoppered a bottle of scotch.

"I'll have whatever you're drinking," she replied, watching as he poured two measures of the single malt and passed her a glass.

 _Specialis Revelio!_

"To good health," she raised her glass and then confidently brought it to her lips when the silent spell revealed no traces of tampering. The young witch sipped her drink, moving curiously around the room, examining the artefacts upon the shelves. "Family heirloom?" she asked, eyeing the ornately carved English Blackthorn wand that rested in a glass case above the mantel.

"It belonged to my namesake, Lucius Malfoy, I. My father offered it to me when I came of age, but I preferred to have a new wand choose me," he boasted.

"Of course. Family wands can have their drawbacks if they don't have a true affinity for the user," she replied. "Creole witches and wizards never pass down wands. It's considered bad luck."

She took a seat on the damask couch near the fireplace and continued sipping her scotch.

"Really?" he joined her, taking in her muggle attire. He'd never seen a witch in trousers, other than professional Quidditch players, but even off the pitch, he couldn't recall ever seeing even Gwenog Jones in anything other than traditional robes. This young woman wore a close-fitting blouse that featured a deep decollete and a fluttering peplum which danced about her curvaceous hips, with breeches that appeared to be practically painted upon her long legs.

"Oh, yes. The Rule of Three embeds itself into the wand of the user. If a wand is won, the deeds of the last user are erased. If a wand is freely given, stolen by, or passed to another, the Rule of Three counteracts the intentions of its new owner, and it never fully yields to its master because its loyalty lies elsewhere. Woe to the wizard who turns it upon the one to whom the wand owes it fealty!"

"You seem quite versed in wandlore," he said. "Is that taught at Ilvermorny?"

"I wouldn't know. I received private tuition." She set her glass aside. "I was under the impression that you had a business proposition to discuss," she said, leisurely crossing her legs and leaning into the corner of the settee.

Lucius licked his lips as his eyes traveled up the length of her legs. He took a sip of his scotch in order to give him an opportunity to manage his mounting arousal.

"Ahem, yes. Yes of course." He schooled his expression. "My son, Draco, has seemingly disappeared without a trace. No one has heard from him in over a year. He was last seen departing Gringotts Bank in October of ninety-eight." His voice took on a sense of urgency. "I've visited all of the family properties, including the apartment in Paris and the vineyard in Tuscany that he received in his birthright, but— _nothing._ None of his remaining friends—those that aren't in Azakaban—have heard from him. I'm terribly worried that he has run afoul of some vengeful wizard who believes that he has escaped justice for what they perceive as our family's part in the war!" He leapt to his feet dramatically.

"Have you considered, Mr. Malfoy, that perhaps your son simply does not wish to be found? There are instances of witches and wizards simply dropping from magical society—choosing to live among No-Majs," she said. Lucius scoffed, turning to her.

" _My_ son—living with muggles— _never!_ Ours is one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain! The Malfoys are listed in the Sacred Twenty-Eight! Such behavior might be considered acceptable in America, but Draco was raised better! He's to be betrothed! The young lady is _most_ distraught!"

"Alright then. You don't think he had any secrets—a girlfriend, _or_ boyfriend—"

"Draco is honour bound to pureblood tradition. He'd have informed me of a desire for a potential love match," Lucius lied. He knew that Draco seemed to have an inclination towards other wizards, but it was of no consequence. He needed this arrangement to go through. Whoever his son was bedding would have to understand and step aside. "No. No, something has happened to my boy. Mademoiselle, Draco is my only child, my heir. I _must_ bring him home!" he leaned his elbow against the window mullion, staring out into the early evening.

She fought hard to keep the exasperation from her expression and her voice as she spoke.

"Seven-fifty."

"I beg your pardon?"

"For the first installment," she said, her expression unchanging.

"Seven hundred and fifty Galleons?" Lucius turned to her in surprise.

"Seven hundred and fifty _thousand_ Galleons.

" _Seven hundred fifty thousand Galleons?"_ Lucius' eyes widened.

"Seven-fifty for the initial payment, and once he is recovered and brought to you, a second payment of seven-fifty will be due and payable—in cash or bullion." She returned Lucius' astonished gaze with her placid one. "Right now, the American Dragot is weak against the Galleon. You're getting a deal, sir. Nonetheless, I can assure you that I am worth every Sprink."

Lucius heaved a sigh and returned to the settee, placing his hand upon her knee.

"Do you _really_ think you can find him?" his eyes searched hers for any sign of deception. If only he were a legilimens—of course, if he were, he might not even require her services. She leaned forward, capturing his hand in hers.

"Absolutely." Her face was only inches from his. Again, the light scent of vanilla filled his nostrils. His hand slid tentatively up her thigh, but she did not break eye contact.

"You are a most _extraordinary_ witch," he whispered. "For one with such a virtuous face, the lady has a most seductive manner."

"In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice," she replied, pushing him onto his back with little effort. She smiled wickedly.

* * *

Draco was pacing the drawing room when Adrestia entered. He tapped his wand agitatedly against his thigh, sparks arcing from hits tip.

"Uhhh…what's all this?" she asked.

"He made me go to a _muggle_ dinner party!" Draco shrugged. He waved absently to where Harry lay on the floor bound in a stringent hogtie. A thread of saliva cascaded from his lips beneath the large gag in his mouth. Adrestia gave Draco a baleful look, to which he responded by rolling his eyes. "Oh, _whatever!_ He's more than capable of freeing himself whenever he feels like it, but he's hoping I'll fuck him tonight if he's compliant. What took you so long?" He flopped onto the couch.

"Baby, don't be a bitch. I told you I'd be fine. Come on now." She glanced meaningfully at Harry.

"Oh, go on then!" Draco frowned at Harry, giving him a dismissive wave.

 _Relashio!_ Harry's restraints vanished and he stretched out on the floor like a cat.

"Told you." Draco patted the cushion beside him, and Harry climbed up to curl into his side. Adrestia settled at their feet, facing them. "Now then, what happened?"

"Your dad's a perv, boo."

"Eew!" Harry exclaimed. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Oh, dear Merlin, please tell me that you did not _screw_ my father!"

"That's nasty!" Adrestia retorted, wrinkling her nose. "Of course, that doesn't mean that he doesn't _think_ I screwed him." She tapped her temple. "I feel so _violated_. The fantasies he has! I'm going to have nightmares," she said. Harry retched. Draco pulled a face.

"Can we move on now, _please?_ Did he tell you anything useful about Mother?" Draco asked.

"Didn't even mention having a wife," she said. Draco huffed, impatiently. Adrestia placed a hand on his knee. "As they say in the infomercials 'but _wait—_ there's more!' He was practically a _zombie_ after I finished working over that filthy mind of his, which gave me the opportunity to snag a souvenir. Get a load of _this!_ " She reached into her coat and pulled out a wand. Draco nearly shoved Harry from the sofa in his haste to stand.

"That's the wand of Lucius, I! Adrestia, you _stole_ one of my father's most prized possessions!" He snatched the wand from her.

"Relax, boo! He won't even know it's gone. I replaced it with a duplicate. Here's what I'm thinking—your mother was given, what was that potion—Drink of Despair? If she couldn't _willingly_ take it, then someone had to threaten, force or trick her into drinking it. That leaves only two options for getting her to consume it."

Harry was sitting up now, his eyes bright with excitement. Draco looked ill. Adrestia continued, sounding like Sherlock Holmes explaining the perfect crime to Watson.

"How's your father's legilimency skill?" she asked.

"He's not a legilimens. I don't know that he's ever attempted to cast the spell," Draco replied flatly, turning the wand over in his hands.

"So, I would assume then, that he's not averse to casting an Unforgivable Curse?"

"You think he used grandfather's wand to Imperious Mother and get her to drink the Chartreuse spiked with potion?"

"It makes sense. She wouldn't feel the effects of the potion while under the curse, which means she'd appear to drink it willingly. If we cast a reverse spell, it might tell us whether he used this wand to curse her or not," Harry suggested. Adrestia nodded.

Draco studied the blackthorn wand with emeralds embedded in a spiral around the hilt. Harry gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"Fine." Draco placed the wand firmly on the tea table. "Do it." He got to his feet and went to the window, staring down at the street below.

" _Prior Incantato._ " Harry pointed his wand at the blackthorn one. His hand vibrated as a golden stream of light leapt from one wand to the other. The blackthorn wand levitated from the tabletop.

" _Imperio!_ " A whisper was heard in the air and the golden stream formed itself into a small moving image that reminded Harry of a movie hologram. It showed Narcissa picking up a goblet and drinking, appearing ill after setting it down. Harry's shoulders slumped as he looked at Adrestia.

"He thinks he's so fucking smart," Draco muttered, still looking down at the drab square, watching muggle life go by, unaware of the drama unfolding in the concealed dimension between Number Eleven and Number Thirteen. "They always said you'd never find a Malfoy wand at the scene of the crime. When I was a child, he'd had those family wands displayed throughout The Manor. Then The Dark Lord returned, and he removed them all to the vault. I should have known."

"Now we have proof," said Harry. "I can use my contacts to—"

"No," said Draco. "Not yet. I don't want him just to be arrested. He's done time before. Without the dementors it'll be a cake walk for Lucius. I want him destroyed and humiliated!" He turned back to them. "Did he go for the convincer?" he asked.

"Have I ever failed you, my love?" Adrestia smiled.

* * *

Lucius woke with a start. She had gone, but everything appeared to be in place—except his breeches. He shook off his post-coital torpor as he spied his money purse sitting in the middle of his desk, a slip of parchment tied to it. He flicked his wand and the leather pouch sailed across the room, landing on the settee with a jingling thump. Lucius ripped off the parchment and read it.

 _Leaky Cauldron—tomorrow_

 _3:00 p.m._

 _Room 6_

He was relieved that she at least had chosen a wizarding establishment for their next meeting. Lucius apparated to his bedchamber and stripped off his sex-soiled garments, stepping into the shower. The little minx was certainly no shrinking violet, if his fogged memory was to be believed. He couldn't help wondering as he soaped himself and struggled to form a more coherent recollection of the encounter to mind, if it had happened at all. He felt quite bereft of touch, unable to recall the weight of her body or the feeling of her flesh against his. He closed his eyes and let the steaming water wash over his face and soak his long tresses, when the memory of plump, velvet lips sliding over his cock came rushing back to him. Lucius took himself in hand, leaning against the cool marble of the shower, a faint smile upon his face as he savored the sudden thought. He panted quietly as his hand made efficient work of his arousal, and he was soon spilling over his fingers, cum washing down the drain as he slumped against the wall.

He'd almost never fallen asleep afterwards, especially not in such a vulnerable state, he thought as he left the shower, casting a drying charm as he made his way to the massive wardrobe on the other side of the room. Lucius wondered if he might be getting just a bit long in the tooth for such a mistress. He was certain now that this witch was younger even than Draco. He carefully selected a fresh pair of trousers and blouse, over which he pulled on his newest robes, trimmed in brocade.

He pushed thoughts of his virility aside as he returned to his study and composed a note to Gringotts requesting conversion of the agreed-upon amount of gold in bullion to be prepared ahead of his meeting the next day, addressing it to the goblin in charge of currency exchange. He'd have to pay a nominal fee for such a rapid turnaround, but if it meant that he could close his deal with Nott, it would all be worth it. Lucius summoned an owl from the aviary and sent her off with the missive. Mundane trivialities aside, he checked his appearance, smoothing a hand over his hair, and disapparated.

* * *

He arrived at St. Mungo's to find Narcissa sitting up in bed. The color had returned to her cheeks and she was carefully brushing her hair.

"Hello, my darling! You are looking much brighter this evening." He strode across the room to the bed and bent to kiss her. Narcissa edged away, eyeing him warily.

"Hello, Lucius," she replied weakly.

Lucius summoned a chair and sat down beside the bed, reaching for her hand. He noticed that she flinched, but did not draw away from him as he clasped her delicate fingers.

"These bed linens are vile!" One would think that a higher quality be maintained for select inmates. I shall have a word with the matron before I depart, hm?"

"Whatever you like," she said.

"I have news, my love. I have enlisted the aid of someone skilled in finding missing persons," he said.

"You what? Lucius, whatever for?" She withdrew her hand, clutching the blanket.

"Narcissa, darling, I only want our son home where he belongs. I am assured that this specialist is the best available, and I'm committing substantial fiscal resources to ensure his return."

"Lucius, _please_ call off this betrothal," she begged. "Draco deserves more than a wife of illegitimate parentage whom he barely knows. He's an adult, and we should have allowed him to choose his own match. Have you not considered that this may be the reason he has disappeared?"

"Nonsense! We will find our son and he will marry the girl we have chosen. It is his honour-bound responsibility. You rest, my dear. I will take care of everything." Lucius patted her knee, and when he lifted her hand to kiss it, Narcissa brushed back his hair, exposing the bright red love bite just below his ear.

"I'm tired, Lucius." She turned her head to the window, thoroughly unsurprised that her husband would seize upon the opportunity to bed a new mistress while she was incapacitated. She wished that Severus had survived. She was certain that he would have helped Draco find a way out of this situation.

"Of course, my love." Lucius withdrew and she summoned the healer.

"Is everything alright, Madam?" asked Healer MacMillan.

"Young man, I believe we have a relative in common. Do you know of whom I speak?"

"You must be referring to my great aunt Melania Black?" he replied with a gentle smile.

"Yes! Yes! It is good to know that you are versed in family history! I hope then that family duty will inspire you to assist me. I need to send an urgent and confidential owl right away." She summoned the complimentary parchment and quill from the bedside drawer and quickly scribbled a note.

"Well, owls aren't allowed on the wards, but if it is absolutely necessary, I suppose I could assist you with posting your message."

"Excellent!" Narcissa touched her wand to the parchment to seal it. "Please have this immediately sent to Harry Potter."


	24. The Breakdown

She entered room six at the Leaky Cauldron at precisely two forty-five and found him already waiting for her. A large satchel rested on the table in the center of the room. He stood, leaning against the window frame, his pale hair glowing in the sunlight streaming through the glass.

"It's all there," he said with a flick of his wand. The bag opened and folded upon itself revealing a stack of gold bullion. "Seven hundred fifty thousand Galleons in good delivery."

She conjured a scale and levitated the gold bars onto it, removing the feather-light charm.

" _Specialis Revelio._ " She moved her wand slowly over the stack of gleaming bars. Lucius gave her an indignant look. Her expression remained impassive. Next, she conjured brass molds to set about making a cupel. " _Diffindo!"_ She sliced off a neat sample of the precious metal and began the assay of the gold sample. Satisfied, she cast a feather-light charm on the gold once more and directed the bars into her own satchel. "One can never be too careful when dealing in such large amounts of currency," she said as the last bar disappeared into the extended depths of her bag with a muffled clank.

"I admire such attention to detail," said Lucius, pushing himself away from the window. "It assures me that you will leave no stone unturned in the search for my Draco."

"Of course."

"However, it didn't escape my observation that you have yet to ask for an image of my son." He approached her, stopping within a few inches of where she leaned against the table.

"True. Nonetheless, I do seem to recall upon our first meeting, you mentioned that you are often mistaken for him. So, I can assume sharp features. Slender build…" She reached up and pushed away a strand of his hair. "…pale hair…" She smiled seductively."…with startling grey eyes and haughty…good looks..." She traced a finger down his cheek. He took her hand. "And if he's anything like his father, then there's this…" She laced her fingers in his and turned his hand over, pushing up his sleeve to reveal the faded scar on the inside of his left wrist. She drew her finger down along his forearm. Lucius snatched his arm away at the tingle that rippled beneath his skin when she touched it.

"How do you know that my son bears this mark?" He narrowed his eyes, gripping her arms tightly. "You _know_ him! _You know where he is!_ " Lucius loomed over her as he held her, hips pinned and back arced over the table.

"Exactly what kind of witch do you take me for, Malfoy? Do you _honestly_ think that I haven't done my homework? That I would allow myself to be taken side-along with a wizard I'd only just met, without finding out who he is? We _do_ have newspapers in America you know. I know all about your involvement with The Dark Lord, and how Harry Potter saved your ass from an eternal prison sentence. Be glad you weren't in the U.S. You'd have been smiling down at a lifetime of memories as the death potion sucked you in!" She lifted her leg against his hip. "Where is your _wife_ , by the way? Does she know about me? I guess the two of you have an arrangement—I hear that's sort of a _thing_ for the idle rich." She gave him a look of reproach as he held her, but made no effort to fight his confining embrace. Lucius released her.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat. His voice had never quite been the same after his incarceration at Azkaban, the frigid, damp atmosphere coupled with the horrifying despair inflicted by the dementors left many of the inmates frequently crying out in anguish, destroying their vocal chords in the process. "Exactly how long do you think it might take to track him down?" he asked.

"Well," she reclined on the tabletop, resting on her elbows. "That all depends upon his location—in country, on the continent or some other, whether he is being held captive, or simply gone to ground, _and_ if his location is plottable or warded. Still, I'm fairly confident that I should be able to locate him within a frame of somewhere between seventy-two hours to a week."

"That's awfully quick." He looked skeptical.

"All magic leaves traces, Mr. Malfoy. Even if he is concealed by that, I should be able to track him by his signature. Your own aura is quite visible. As his son, vestiges of your magical signature will be visible in his. I will find him. You just make sure that you have the balance of my gold ready when I contact you."

She propped her foot up on the edge of the table and Lucius bit his lip as he gazed down at her. A knowing smirk curled the corner of her lips and she nodded in the direction of the bed.


	25. The Estate of the Half-Blood Prince

"Now, _there's_ a tasty-looking treat!" Seamus declared, as he gazed down at the street below from the large window of their loft.

"We talked about this, love. I'm going to have to punish you, if you can't stop window shopping." Dean sat with his feet perched on the tea table, a large drawing pad propped against his knees. "I thought you were meant to be working on a set list for the soft opening."

"Nearly there, darling. Nearly there. You should come and take a gander. They're _bikers!_ " He sipped his tea. "Probably straight though. Oh! Looks like they're coming into the building! Wonder who they're visiting."

"Probably Fitzroy on the other side," Dean replied, focusing on a charcoal sketch of Lavender Brown. He'd approached Professor McGonagall about creating a series of portraits for the common rooms. Already, he'd finished Fred Weasley and a preliminary drawing of Colin Creevey.

There was a knock at the door and Seamus set his teacup down as he went to open it.

"Oh, my! Someone's got some explaining to do!" he exclaimed. Dean turned around as Harry entered, a bike helmet tucked under his arm, Draco in tow.

"Harry? What's going on?" he set aside his drawing pad, cleaning his hands with a sanitary wipe, and looked warily at the couple.

"He was going a little stir-crazy, so I decided to get him out of the house," said Harry.

"Could you possibly _rewind_ to the part where Draco Malfoy is living at Twelve Grimmauld Place, and the two of you have become _bikers?"_ Dean looked like an annoyed parent as he spoke.

Harry explained about his return trip to Boston and how he'd discovered Narcissa at St. Mungo's upon his arrival back in the UK, along with their suspicions about Lucius' plot to force Draco into an unwanted marriage, leaving out the details of their plot to con Lucius and expose his misdeeds.

"So, Draco needs to stay out of sight in the meantime." They sat side-by-side like nervous teens, on the divan, facing the couple on the opposite couch.

"So, _you're_ the reason that me cousin was targeted by tha mob?" Seamus leveled an accusatory gaze at Draco.

"No," Draco rolled his eyes. "That idiot bent copper you decked is the reason the Rafferty family was after your cousin. _I'm_ the reason that the mob is _no longer_ looking for him."

"It's true," said Harry. "I was there."

"Okay, okay. Let me get this straight. Draco fled to America, to avoid an unwanted marriage, and opened a BDSM club with an unknown partner—do you know who this person is?"

"Yes, but I'm not at liberty to share that information," Harry replied.

"Fine, worrisome, but fine—moving on—he opens a BDSM club, starts pulling heists and con jobs, one of which lands my partner in jail, leading you to come to his rescue. Then, in payment for his help, you accept a date with him, and eventually end up shagging one another. After that, he sneaks back in country just to see you, and you wind up soo smitten that you follow him back to America, where he finally manages to collar you…" Dean pointed to Harry's bracelet.

"How did—" Harry began, but Dean cut him off.

"Takes one to know one, love. _Now_ you're risking everything to come back here for Harry." He stared Draco down.

"I am _here_ to see to my mother's well-being. I was perfectly content to wait for Harry's return, as he'd promised he would do." Draco held Dean's gaze. "Look, Thomas, I know you have no reason to believe what I am saying, but my recent actions in certain matters should be enough to convince you of my sincerity, and frankly, if you were any type of friend to Harry, your desire to see him happy should persuade you not to make him choose between us."

"So, if he told you that he chose us and his other friends, you'd let him go?"

"I've let Harry go time after time over the last nine years. I never want to be placed in that position again, but if it meant that he was happy…" Draco took Harry's hand.

"Jaysus, Harry! He's _really_ in love with ye!" Seamus exclaimed.

"Does that mean this interrogation is over?"

"Almost," said Dean. "It goes without saying that if you ever hurt him, you have the entire _might_ of Dumbledore's Army and the Order of the Phoenix hunting you down." He gave Draco a hard stare for several moments before his face broke into a wide grin. "Now then! _How_ did you manage to get the Boy-Who-Lived to _kneel_ for the likes of you?"

"My magnetic Slytherin charm of course!" Draco smirked, and Harry nudged him in the ribs as he laughed.

"Oh, please! He was whinging and crying like a prat."

"Malfoys _do not_ whinge!" Draco protested.

"I beg to differ!" Seamus rebutted. "I seem to recall a lot of 'wait until my _father_ hears about this!' going on when we were in school."

Dean and Harry broke up with laughter as Draco rolled his eyes.

"Well, he won't be hearing about _this!_ Imagine, _me_ consorting with blood-traitor Gryffindors!" he chuckled.

"Imagine the look on his face when he finds out his son is _shaggin'_ Harry Potter!" Seamus said.

"Oh, I'm waiting for the perfect moment—that will be the pièce de résistance."

"I can imagine his response," said Harry, attempting to mimic Lucius' expression. He tossed his head, lifting his chin. "I _have_ no son!"

Seamus and Dean howled with laughter, leaning on one another for support. Draco picked up Dean's drawing pad.

"This is quite remarkable, Thomas," he said. "Lavender Brown, right?"

"Yes."

"Didn't she have a thing with Weaselb—erm, _Weasley_ a little while back?"

" _That's_ what you remember?" Seamus gave him a hard look.

"I _remember_ what that _filthy savage,_ Greyback, did to her," he said. "A terrible waste. She might have been a bit sentimental and vapid, but I do recall that she was a relatively talented witch."

"Dean's doing a set of memorial portraits for each of the house common rooms," said Seamus.

"Well, I shan't bother asking if there will be any for Slytherin," said Draco.

"What about Regulus Black?" said Harry.

"Regulus was a Death Eater," Draco reminded him.

"Regulus died in an attempt to defy and destroy Riddle. Just like Severus, he'd discovered that his loyalty was misplaced and tried to make amends for that. I found out after Dumbledore's funeral." Draco tensed beside Harry at the mention of Dumbledore's death. He squeezed his hand. "I'm sure I can provide you with a picture, Dean." Dean shrugged and gave a nod. Draco set the pad back on the table, and looked around at the paintings that adorned the walls.

"You know, Harry, I think perhaps the place on Spinner's End might be brightened up quite a bit with the right piece of art. Do you take commissions, Dean?"

"Erm, yeah, I do—Spinner's End? What's that?" he asked.

"A little preservation project of mine," Harry replied. "Fancy a jaunt to the Midlands?"

* * *

"Alright, Harry? Good to see you! I see you've brought reinforcements."

"Dave! Lucy! C'mon in!" Harry stepped back to allow their neighbors to enter Number Twenty-Two Spinner's End.

"We brought takeaway." He indicated the bag he carried, filled with cartons of Chinese food. "Lucy figured you guys might be hungry with all of the work."

"It's never easy sorting through the belongings of someone after they're gone," said Lucy. "What can we do to help?" She held a styrofoam cooler.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "Where's Blythe?"

"Mum and Dad have _stolen_ her from us for the weekend," said Lucy with a wide grin.

"And instead of having an uninterrupted cuddle, you're spending it buying takeaway for the neighbors?" Harry ushered them into the sitting room where Dean, Draco, and Seamus were each huddled among towers of books. "Dave, Lucy, these are our friends, Dean and Seamus."

"Wow!" Dave exclaimed. "Now I know why we almost _never_ saw Snape outside of his home! I wonder if he actually read every one of these books." He picked up the nearest tome.

"Oh, trust me, he _definitely_ did!" declared Seamus.

"There's a table on the terrace," said Draco. "It's just warm enough that we'd probably be more comfortable there. Harry, love, I think there were a couple of extra chairs in the storeroom." He took the food from Dave and led the way out to the terrace. Once the muggles' backs were turned, Harry flicked his wand and conjured extra folding chairs that he carried out with him.

"Huh. That's funny, I could swear that table didn't look quite so large when we first stepped outside," said Lucy, accepting a chair from Harry.

"It's amazing the magic simply wiping down a grungy table can make," Seamus shrugged. In actuality, he'd cast a nonverbal enlargement spell as he 'wiped' the table clean.

* * *

"So, did you guys grow up together?" Lucy asked.

"We all met at school. These blokes were all in the _worst_ house." Draco picked up a pair of chopsticks, loading his plate with lo mein.

"Lies!" Seamus, Dean and Harry chorused, laughing heartily.

Conversation over the meal highlighted many topics, and before long, the table was littered with empty food cartons and beer bottles. The sky had darkened and streetlights ignited with a buzz before Dave and Lucy made their farewells, waving as they crossed the street to their own home. The wizards stood amongst the piles of books with slight expressions of defeat.

"What are we going to do with all of these books?" Dean picked one up. "Mortiferum et Veneficiis Elixirs. Sounds a bit—"

"Scary," said Seamus.

"We certainly can't simply bin them," said Harry. "There's no telling what dark information some of them might contain."

"Yeah, look at this one— _Ars Moriendi_ ," said Dean.

"That's a muggle text, darling," said Seamus.

"It is? How do _you_ know?"

"Half-blood, Catholic."

"It's a religious text," said Harry. "The Art of Dying. This looks like the long version, _Tractatus_ _Artis Bene Moriendi—_ A Treatise on the Art of Dying Well."

"How do you know that? I thought the Dursleys never took you anywhere."

"Seven years hanging out with Hermione Granger." Harry rolled his eyes. "What _doesn't_ she know?"

"Ah, of course. I wonder if this book may have belonged to Snape's father."

"Does anybody know if Snape had a will?" asked Seamus. Harry shrugged.

"Well, naturally, the local council had no record of his death, and there was no will or grant of representation in his name either. I had Hermione check at the ministry, and she came up with the same result. The Wizengamot was 'happy' to grant me a letter of administration and the Muggle Liaison Office helped us create the appropriate documents for the transfer of property."

"Uhhh, so does that mean that you get to decide what happens to all of this stuff?" Dean asked.

"Basically, but of course Draco is his godson, so if he wants to do something specific, I'll defer to him." Harry turned over a book, flipping through the pages. A photo fell out. He turned it over to find that it was a picture of the Hogwarts staff dated 1982. "Look at this." He passed the picture around.

"Oh, wow. McGonagall's hair is on her shoulders!" Seamus exclaimed.

"We should probably check these books for documents or things before we crate them," Dean suggested.

"I have an idea," said Seamus. "What if ye select tha books ye want and donate tha rest."

"Some of these _are_ quite rare. I don't know that they should be left to the carelessness of students," Draco mused. "We _could_ donate the others to Hogwarts. Old McGonagall would probably faint dead away at the idea of _me_ making a philanthropic donation to Hogwarts."

"Not if I'm endorsing the idea," said Harry. "What about that large hall in the dungeons? I'm certain you could persuade Slughorn to convert it into a potions library for students in Snape's name."

"That'd _definitely_ give McGonagall a coronary!" Seamus exclaimed with a laugh.

"I rather like that idea," said Draco.

"McGonagall having a coronary?" Seamus grimaced.

"Prat," he rolled his eyes. "The Severus Snape Memorial Potions Research Library," Draco declared with a note of fanfare.

Harry and Draco agreed that once their more pressing business was completed, they would approach Slughorn and McGonagall about the idea. It was well past midnight when the group, bleary-eyed and sneezing frequently, decided to call it a night and figure out sleeping arrangements.

"Well, there's two rooms upstairs," said Dean. "Looks like one of them hasn't been slept in for _ages._ "

"That's probably his parents' room. We'll take that," said Draco.

"Oh, _my!_ " Seamus grinned wickedly. "You and me in leaba an ollamh!" he waggled his brows. The others rolled their eyes, and Dean grabbed Seamus' collar.

"C'mon!" he led him up the narrow staircase and the others heard the bedroom door close a few seconds later.

"Maybe we should have taken that room," Draco said, warily. "Can you imagine what they'd do with any secrets they might find?" Harry snorted.

"At this hour, those rainbow kids have one goal—to get even with Snape by having hot, kinky sex on his bed." Harry rolled his eyes, brushing dust from his jeans as he got to his feet. He pulled Draco to his feet and he did the same. Draco gave him a baleful look, and followed him up the stairs.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! _Cast a privacy spell!_ " Draco gave the door, behind which barely muffled moans and cries could already be heard, a kick when they reached the small landing. Harry pushed open the opposite door and they stepped into the neatly furnished room. He flicked his wand to banish the layer of dust that coated every surface.

At some point, the bedroom suite had been a prized possession, probably purchased at the beginning of a marriage. All of the furniture pieces coordinated. There was a vanity with a large circular mirror, a bureau and bed with a headboard that mimicked the design of the vanity, as well as matching night tables. The double bed had clearly seen better days, its sagging mattress covered with a threadbare chenille bedspread. A crocheted doily was laid across the top of the bureau, and a trio of small, framed photos was arranged atop it.

Draco crossed to the dresser and examined the pictures. There was one of a couple, possibly on their wedding day. The woman held a small posy, and the man, who looked a great deal like Severus, appeared slightly uncomfortable in his suit as he smiled stiffly for the camera. In another, the woman smiled brightly as she held a tiny dark-haired baby wrapped in a light green blanket. The third photo was the only one in which the subjects moved. It appeared to have been taken in Diagon Alley, and showed young Severus and his mother standing outside of Ollivander's wand shop. Severus gazed rapturously at the wand in his hand.

"Feels almost like an intrusion, yeah?" Harry asked, sliding his hands around Draco's waist.

"A bit, but I realize there's so much I never knew about him," he replied.

"I doubt anyone ever _really_ knew him at all. I didn't learn the things that I know until he gave me those memories. By then it was too late." He kissed Draco's neck and tugged at his hand. Draco turned around to see that the bed had been expanded, and the mattress plumped. Harry had also conjured a fluffy duvet, which was folded at the foot of the bed. "That's better, right?"

"It's brilliant," said Draco.

"Dibs on the shower," Harry announced.

When Draco returned from his shower, he found Harry and Adrestia cuddled in the bed, backs against the headboard, deep in discussion.

"What's all this, then?" he asked, drying his hair with his wand.

"She got here a few minutes ago. Just wondering what the next move is," said Harry.

"Did he pay?" Draco climbed into the bed and settled in front of Harry, passing him a silver-backed brush. Harry took it, looking nonplussed. Adrestia nodded at Draco. Harry made a face, rolling his eyes as he began to brush the blond's hair.

"Seven-fifty in good delivery," she replied. "He was skeptical that I didn't already know you. I threw him off the scent though."

"When is he expecting you to show up with Draco?" Harry asked.

"I told him to give me three to seven days. I think anything quicker than that will make him suspicious. Maybe in about two days I send him an owl saying I have a lead. That ought to keep his appetite whet." She settled down with her head in Draco's lap.

"Excellent, my love," he stroked her hair.

"Maybe that will give us some time to figure out what kind of deal he has with Nott, or possibly get him to confess to poisoning Narcissa. I didn't go into detail as to what we were doing after she owled me, but I assured her that we had things under control. She's quite concerned."

"She may also be a bit pissed off because she found the love bite I put on his neck," Adrestia said. Draco and Harry pulled faces of disgust. She shrugged. "It's all in the details, baby. It's under a glamour intended to wear off once he comes into contact with her."

"Do you think we should call in Neville for this next bit? There will be quite a few moving parts, and I don't know if I want you and Lucius crossing wands if it goes pear-shaped," suggested Draco.

"Well, I do rather have a plan B, but it might not be a bad idea for Neville to get involved."

"Plan B? What's that?" Draco asked.

"It's best if you don't know just yet, love. I will say that the idea is to try to get Lucius to incriminate himself."

They crawled under the covers and talked over their next plans until finally dozing off in their general tangle.

* * *

Harry woke to the sensation of warm lips closing around his penis. He opened his eyes and discovered Adrestia looking up at him as her head bobbed up and down, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock each time she pulled back. He let out a soft moan and placed his hand on top of her head to guide her.

Bereft of the warm comforter, Draco rolled over and opened his eyes to find Harry in the throes of ecstasy from the morning blow-job that Adrestia was giving him. Not one to be left out, he rolled up onto his knees and grabbed Harry's wrists, pinning them above his head.

"Let's not be greedy," he said. "Open." Draco straddled him, pushing his cock into Harry's mouth. Harry moaned around him as Adrestia licked up his shaft. Draco braced one hand against the wall above the bed. "Mmm! Fuck!" he thrust into Harry's mouth.

"Mmmmmm!" Harry moaned, closing his eyes. He rocked his hips as Adrestia took him in.

"Look at me!" Draco commanded. "You like waking up like this? With a cock in your mouth and a mouth on your prick? Fucking whore! Oh! Shit!" Harry swallowed, relaxing his throat and Draco shuddered from the sensation. He pulled out, and grabbed Adrestia by the hair, forcing her onto her back.

"I want you to make her cum, while she makes you cum, and you make me cum!" he declared. Harry gave him a curious look before pushing her legs apart and shoving into her wet cunt.

"Merlin! You have the best pussy!" Harry exclaimed. He gripped her hair, pulling her head to the side and sucking eagerly at her neck.

 _Resigno Apertus! Illitus Inlitus!_

"Fuck!" Harry cried, looking back over his shoulder just as Draco tossed his wand aside and sank two slick fingers into his ass. "Oh! Mmmm! Unngghh!" Draco stimulated his prostate. He pushed back against Draco's hand.

"Oh, my god!" Adrestia exclaimed as Harry thrust hard into her, sliding off Draco's fingers.

"Oh, sonofa—ohhh, Godric!" Harry moaned, stilling as Draco pushed his prick into him.

"Fuck! Gods in the sky!" Draco declared as Harry clenched around him. He settled in, bracing himself against Adrestia's raised legs. She grunted with the weight of both wizards atop her.

"Fucking, fuck!" Harry pushed back against Draco, then slammed into Adrestia, losing his breath with the alternating sensations. "Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fucking shit!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh Bondye mwen, Fuck m '! Wi! Wi! Oh my god, fuck me! Yes! Yes!" she screamed.

"Oh! Fuck! Oh! Fuck!" Draco wailed.

Adrestia bucked beneath them, clenching around Harry's cock. He groaned, shuddering inside her. Draco grew weak in the knees, his cock pulsing as Harry gripped him tightly.

"Fuck!" Harry cried.

"Salazar!"

"Godric!"

"Tituba!"

A bleary-eyed Seamus and Dean emerged from the room across the hall.

"That sounds like—is there a _woman_ in there?" They gave one another a curious look as they listened to the noises coming from the opposite room. "Bloody hell!"

"Oi! Cast a fucking privacy spell! It's early, yeah?" Dean kicked the door and Seamus snickered before they went downstairs in search of breakfast.

"Well, what have we here?" Dean drawled when the ot hers finallydragged themselves into the tiny kitchen nearly half an hour later.

"You guys came to the club with Harry, right?" Adrestia asked, pouring a cup of coffee and perching herself on the counter.

"I'm Dean, and this is Seamus." Dean glanced from her to Harry and Draco with curiosity.

"You're Draco's sub?" Seamus blurted the question.

"Yeah," she said. "Well, sort of. I'm under his protection. By the way, I've heard of people being so caught up in the sex that they don't notice anything else around them, but damn! You guys were so lost that _you_ looked directly at me and never said a word!" She pointed at Dean. "Or _did_ you see me, and thought it was such a massive turn-on that you wanted to see how I would react? Hell, I almost considered joining you, but I wasn't sure that was your thing."

"What the hell?" Draco exclaimed.

"Portkey dropped me in their room," she shrugged.

"Trust me, darling, had we realized that ye were there, _Dean_ most definitely would have invited ye to join in—provided your Sir didn't mind sharing." Seamus smirked, lifting his coffee cup. "He flipped open the pink box at the center of the table."

"We figured you guys would be in need of energy replenishment," said Dean. "So, Shea and I located a bakery in town and got pastries. This box is muffins." He pointed. "That one is scones."

Everyone helped themselves to pastries and either tea or coffee, summoning the chairs from the previous night and crowding the tiny kitchen table.

"So what's this?" Draco pointed to a stack of periodicals at Seamus' elbow. "Aren't we a bit old for comic books, Finnegan?"

"I'd have to agree with ye, if they were mine, but Dean and I discovered 'em beneath the bed! Looks like der professor wasn't quite as bookish as he'd have had us believe, innit?"

"If Ron were to ever learn that he and Snape both enjoyed _The Adventures of Martin Miggs,_ he'd eat his own wand!" Harry chuckled. "Anything else of interest up there?"

"Nah. We hadn't really looked about though—occupied with less investigative activities, ye know." Seamus spread jam over his scone and took a bite.

"What about you guys?" asked Dean. "Do any late night snooping before your sunrise orgy?" Draco rolled his eyes.

"We did not. Other than a few family photos, there was nothing of interest that jumped out at us."

"There's a desk in Snape's room. We tried to open it, but it appears to be locked. You think there might be a will or something inside?"

"We can tackle it after we eat," Harry suggested. "You and Seamus take Severus' bedroom. Adrestia, you take the parents' room, and Draco and I can continue sorting the sitting room. Agreed?" The others nodded their assent and were soon consumed with their tasks.

* * *

By noon, Adrestia edged into the sitting room, skirting the small mountains of books that surrounded Harry and Draco, and slumped onto the shabby imitation Chesterfield.

"You know, I really feel sorry for this guy's mother. I know that witches and wizards come from all walks of life, as do No-Majs, but it just seems as though she could have done so much better than his dad. She must have hardly used her magic at all! I would have hexed the _shit_ out of any man who thought I was gonna live like this Snape guy and his wife!"

"What did you find?" asked Draco. Harry looked up with interest.

"Not a whole lot. I don't think this woman had five dresses. There were some bundles of letters from her son, a handful of photos, mostly of her and the boy. Lots of demands for payment on things like electricity. There were a few check stubs from the mill for a Tobias Snape. He didn't have much either. Two suits, two pairs of shoes, a couple of pairs of trousers and a broken watch. She had a couple of nice pieces of jewelry that looked like heirlooms—there was a pearl necklace and earrings, as well as a silver brooch with a serpent on it. What about you guys? Any treasure among the pages?"

"Nothing to write to the press about—ACHOO!" Draco sneezed.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Seamus called down from the top of the stairs. "Ye should come an' look at this!"

The other three rushed up the stairs and into the room that had belonged to Severus Snape. They stopped short when they entered, expecting to see some frightful sight, but only found Dean sitting on the bed and Seamus in the chair beside the desk holding a package about the size of a large shoe box.

Unlike the other room, it was clear that this one had been fitted out with second-hand furniture. None of the pieces matched and there were scratches and chipped veneer on just about every piece. The walls were unadorned, save for a Fulham football poster which was torn and hanging somewhat ragged. On either side of the small window, bookcases reached from floor to ceiling, and they recognized several Hogwarts textbooks among the volumes. The roll-top desk was badly damaged, its lock broken, and the wood around the latch singed.

"Could you not have used something less damaging than _Portaberto?_ " Draco asked in an exasperated tone.

"Certainly, if ye wanted ta be here aul night figurin' out a password," replied Seamus with a shrug. "This has yer name on it." He passed over the bundle wrapped in paper and string.

"It does?" Draco took the package, eyeing it curiously. He slid the envelope free of the string that held the wrappings about the box, opening it to find a note and another sealed envelope.

 _Dear Draco,_

 _If you are reading this, I sincerely hope that it means that Voldemort has been defeated and the war is finally over. I dare not have risked informing you of its presence while he was still undefeated, lest he discover my duplicity. Nonetheless, I've always known you to be a clever lad, and that is the reason I chose to leave it in such a place that it may be found by you._

 _I have ever only had two important loves in my lifetime. Though the second was only an intimate friendship with someone who was more like an understanding confidante for a very brief time, I loved her all the same. The other was the deepest love of my heart. She was my first friend, and I ever regretted hurting her in such a way that she eventually found her heart in the hands of my most despised rival. Sadly, the Dark Lord was responsible for taking her from this realm. It is my sincere hope that one day you will find someone who encourages you to believe in yourself and who makes your heart sing as Lily Evans made mine._

 _Draco, you are as close to a son as I might ever have known. I have made some grave mistakes in my life, and I hope that I did not encourage the same ideas and mistakes in yours. I did attempt to appeal to Lucius not to allow you to take the Dark Mark, and I made an unbreakable vow to your mother to help you in any way that I could. I feel safe in revealing within this letter that Dumbledore knew you had been tasked with his assassination. He wished to spare your eternal soul from the damnation of being ripped in two. That is why he begged me on the tower, and why I cast the curse that sent him to his fate. Do not carry that guilt with you. I know that it is not in your nature to murder callously. Albus was already slowly sinking into his demise before that night. He wished not to go to his end in slow and painful agony._

 _I have done you a great disservice as a godfather, and I believe that I owe you an apology for creating a situation in which you did not feel at ease to share with me what you were feeling. I am aware, Draco, that your physical and emotional inclinations are not towards the opposite sex. My one great regret is fostering the enmity that existed between you and Harry Potter. I admit that much of my own dislike of him was based on childish bitterness that I allowed to fester and color my opinion of him. If he too has survived the war, as I have every confidence he has, given that you are now reading this letter, please make an effort to at least reconcile your differences, if nothing else. Someone once told me that even the darkest among us have a little light. We just have to remember it's there, and we must be willing to let it shine. I have seen the light and the dark within you both, and I know that the light is the more powerful force within you. When you find the courage to finally accept and reach out to your soul match, if he should return your affection, treat him as if he is your beginning and your end, let nothing stand between your hearts and place his needs first._

 _I have only one request now. Please give Harry the enclosed letter and the contents of this package, so he might find even the slightest light in me. As you go forward, Draco, let your light shine upon others, so that it is your good works that they remember._

 _Always,_

 _Severus Snape_

Draco sniffled and blinked several times to clear his watery eyes. He took a deep breath and looked at Harry before holding out the box and envelope.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "These are for you," he said in a soft, husky voice. Harry knit his brow as he reached for the items. When their hands touched, Draco let his fingers linger.

Harry met his eyes briefly before turning his attention back to the parcel in his hands. His name appeared on the front of the envelope the moment that his fingers touched it. He broke the seal and unfolded the parchment inside.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _If you are reading this, I can assume that the war is over, and again, you have saved them all. I hope that it was Draco who delivered this missive to you. I would very much have preferred to have this conversation with you in person. It has been one of my deepest longings of late, to right the wrongs that I have done in my lifetime._

 _Harry, I must make a confession. I judged you unfairly because I carried the pain of bearing what I felt was unfair treatment on behalf of your father. I was jealous. James Potter was wealthy, well-liked, and a Quidditch star, while I wore second-hand clothing, and had only one true friend. I didn't want to share her with anyone else, least of all the person who took his fun from constantly tormenting me._

 _I do not attempt to justify my behavior by blaming your father. It is wrong to speak ill of the departed. I saw much of the same antagonism between you and Draco Malfoy, and I admit that I chose not to interfere because I felt I owed a small debt to Lucius for intervening at least once and providing me with what I believed at the time were powerful connections in our world. I didn't know then, the price we would all pay as a result._

 _I know that you blame me for the death of Albus Dumbledore, but you must understand that I had no choice, and Albus was at peace with the prospect of the end of his life. He did not wish to go in painful agony, nor did he wish for Draco to damn his soul to be rent in two. I had come to look upon Draco as the son I did not have, and I had made an unbreakable vow to his mother to help him._

 _As I have previously stated, there has only ever been one true friend in my life. Lily Evans was my first real friend. She became my unrequited love, and I drove her away by taking out my frustrations in a hateful way towards her. My greatest regret is the part that I played in her ultimate demise. I hope you will learn that I did what I could to repent for my grave mistake and I will meet Death knowing that nothing I could have done afterwards will ever be enough to overcome my guilt over my actions._

 _I owed a debt to both of your parents to protect you. I do not believe that I always gave you my best, for reasons that I have already declared. I came to learn the error of my ways, but again it was too late. By then, we had learned of your connection to the Dark Lord, and I could not risk him learning of my duplicity through you. Apologies will never be enough, but I sincerely wish that whatever little thing I may have done to help the cause to conquer the Dark Lord will illuminate the virtue that your mother had once found in me when we were children._

 _Harry, if Draco is the messenger bearing this letter to you, I hope that in this postbellum world, the two of you can find inspiration to make peace and be ambassadors of accord for wizarding society. I know that much has already been placed upon your shoulders at such a young age, but you have borne it with a grace that I envy. If anyone is able to influence others to put aside antiquated ideas and differences and work for the greater good, it will be the two of you._

 _Someone I knew once encouraged me to remember my own light, and let it shine, and I lament that I did not remember to hearken to those words. I have seen the light in both you and Draco, and I know that it is a formidable force. I have no right to ask anything of you, but I would like to encourage you to engage in discourse._

 _Please accept this parcel with the understanding that I salvaged these items and held on to them, waiting for the appropriate opportunity to present them to you. I hope that it will help you to learn more about your parents, and perhaps you might find even the faintest sliver of light in me._

 _Always,_

 _Severus Snape_

Harry untied the string and removed the paper, hesitantly lifting the lid from the box and looking inside. He let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob, his knees buckling as the bundle fell from his hands. When the fragile box hit the floor, the thin cardboard gave way. The others were stunned as photos and small mementos scattered onto the threadbare rug.

"Merlin!" Dean exclaimed, clutching Seamus' hand.

"What's all this?" Adrestia asked.

"It's my—It's my—" Harry hiccoughed, falling to his knees and pawing indiscriminately through the pile, as flashes of early memories appeared in his mind. Draco knelt beside him, gripping his shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "He must have gone there, after. He saved these things!" Harry picked up a small silver baby rattle with the letter H engraved onto the surface.

There were photos of his parents on their wedding day, pictures of a pregnant Lily. He gazed in wonder at images of Sirius and Remus each holding him as an infant. There was also an older couple that he assumed was his grandparents. He found a Head Girl badge and a small envelope containing a lock of black hair held with a ribbon. There was a small stuffed owl which looked remarkably like Hedwig, one wing bent awkwardly out of place. He discovered from the many pictures showing him with the owl, that he'd clutched the wing when he held it. Tears began to stream down his face in earnest when he picked up one photo in particular. It featured Harry on a miniature broom, zooming in and out of frame as James laughed and clapped for him—he'd found a torn copy of this same picture along with a letter from Lily among Sirius' belongings when he, Ron and Hermione arrived at Number Twelve after escaping the Death Eaters who attacked Bill and Fleur's wedding. This intact photo showed Lily beside her husband, smiling as they watched their son.

Draco gently rubbed Harry's back, softly kissing his neck, urging him to calm himself as he hyperventilated. After a few moments, Harry managed to control his breathing, leaning into Draco as he continued to clutch the owl and photo to his chest. He swiped his face with the back of his hand.

"You all must think I'm a bloomin' pilchard, carrying on so," Harry sniffled.

"Nonsense, mate!" Dean protested. "When my father left to go into hiding, he took everything magical he had with him. Around Christmas last year, I received a small parcel from Professor McGonagall. She'd reached out to a few people she recalled being mates with him and they sent pictures and letters from their time in school. Mum and I cried for hours."

"We get it, and we don't, Harry," said Adrestia. "I couldn't imagine not having my parents and the amazing memories they've helped me create, but I understand how I think I might feel if I ever lost them and what my precious mementos would mean in their absence."

"Yeah," said Seamus.

"Definitely," Draco agreed. He waved his wand and the torn cardboard box transfigured itself into a highly polished mahogany keepsake box with a velvet lining in scarlet. The group helped Harry gather all of the items and carefully placed them inside. Harry included the letter from Snape before he pointed his own wand to lock it. Tracing his fingers over the lid, he let out a sigh and turned to Draco, giving him a chaste kiss.

"Thank you." He smiled, touching their foreheads. Draco blushed, smiling back.

"Always."


	26. Brideprice

** _Just another short one-a teaser to fill in the background. Enjoy!_

* * *

Lucius paced before the fireplace in the empty drawing room of Malfoy Manor. In the wake of their acquittals, he'd vanished every furnishing and fixture, including the large gilt mirror above the mantelpiece. The room had since remained empty, Narcissa and Draco refusing to enter it, so it had become the perfect place for him to make and accept fire-calls when he didn't wish to be interrupted, even with his now-empty mansion.

"There are plenty of wizards more worthy of my sister's hand, Malfoy. She need not wait for your son's," said Thedore Nott.

"Really? How many others are so desperate to be married, that they'd accept the illegitimate _French-born_ daughter of a convicted Death Eater?" he retorted.

"As if Draco is such a prize? Given that he is _also_ the child of a Death Eater, one's pardon notwithstanding. He's a closet pillow-biter with a Harry Potter obsession that's rumored to have been less about siding with the Dark Lord and more to do with wanting to lift his shirt."

"How _dare_ you—"

"What? Tell you the unmitigated truth? You haven't changed one bit, Malfoy. Father always said you were calculating and slippery. Remember, that it is _I_ who is doing you the favor. That you would sell your own son to obtain it, leads me to believe I might perhaps do better to offer it to the highest bidder."

Lucius glared at the face in the flickering flames before he collected himself and resumed his cool, aloof manner.

"I _will_ have it, Nott. Your sister will wed and her bride price will be enough to help restore a semblance of your family's lost fortune. I have a highly skilled specialist on the case. You shall be hearing from me in short order."

"We shall see," Nott replied tersely before disappearing from the flames.


	27. What I Need from You is Understanding

Kreacher appeared on the conservatory terrace the moment that they arrived at Number Twelve. The old elf was very agitated and leapt onto the handlebars of Harry's motorbike as soon as he rolled to a stop. Harry removed his helmet and gave the house elf a curious look.

"What's the matter, Kreacher?" he asked.

"Master Harry's friend, Weasley is waiting in the drawing room, sir."

"Shit! Kreacher, take them and Draco's bike up to Regulus' room. I'll deal with Ron."

Kreacher nodded and Harry ran into the house before Ron could make his way downstairs.

"Ron! What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"It's like that, is it?" Ron's replied tightly. "You promised Mum that you wouldn't do another runner!"

"I didn't—not exactly."

"Then where have you been?" Ron demanded. "Why is the floo closed off?"

"Cokeworth." He shrugged out of his jacket, placing it and his helmet on the piano bench.

"Cokeworth?"

"It's where my mum and Snape grew up," Harry replied. He flounced into one of the chairs facing the fireplace.

"Snape grew up in the same town as your mum?" Ron asked incredulously. He sat down in the opposite chair. "How long have you known that?"

"I found out during the Battle—when I saw his memories in the pensieve. Hermione didn't tell you that I was made administrator of Snape's estate?"

"She—no—I wonder why she wouldn't tell me that."

"Maybe she thought I'd have told you. Sorry, mate. At any rate, I was there sorting through his belongings and preparing to refurbish the house in Spinner's End. The entire neighborhood is being renewed. I was afraid that agents would try to swoop in and take it, not knowing what magical artefacts might be hidden there."

"Did you find anything?" Ron asked, leaning forward with interest.

"Nothing inherently dangerous. Naturally, there were lots of books. Oh, yeah, you'll never believe this—Snape had an entire collection of Martin Miggs comics!"

"Get out! Snape? You're pulling my plonker!"

"It's true! I've crated them up for you. He's got them going all the way back to 1965!"

"That's amazing! Wait'll I tell George! He'll never believe it!"

"I erm—" Harry hesitated.

"What is it?"

"He'd written me a letter. He—I don't know how he got them, I guess he—or maybe Dumbledore—it doesn't matter, I suppose—"

"What, Harry? You're starting to freak me out, yeah?"

Harry summoned his jacket and reached into his pocket, upon which he'd cast an extension charm. He gently pulled out the stuffed owl and the silver rattle, holding them out to Ron.

"That—this looks like Hedwig!" Ron exclaimed. "Snape had a stuffed owl that looked like yours? What are the odds?"

"It's not Snape's," Harry replied. He took the rattle and turned it over to show Ron the H engraved on the face.

"Wait—this is—is it really—?"

"They're both mine. There's pictures and some other things too." Harry cleared his throat. "He'd kept them for me."

"Merlin! Well, why didn't he ever give them to you?" Ron asked, a hint of indignation in his voice. "He knew you'd had precious few memories of your parents!"

"When would have been a good time for him to do that, Ron? He could barely stand to look at me, I was so much like my Dad. Then Riddle returned and he couldn't risk appearing to care for or protect me, could he?" Harry took back the rattle and stuffed animal and carefully placed them on the side table.

"You reckon that's why Hagrid got you Hedwig? Maybe he remembered your favorite toy."

"It's possible," Harry shrugged. He made a mental note to ask the half-giant when he saw him next.

"Still, Harry, why have you locked your floo? What are you hiding? Is it your new fling?" Ron asked, giving him a pointed look. Harry started.

"What?" He looked at his best friend incredulously. Ron pointed to the silver cuff.

"Ginny mentioned it." Harry's eyes grew wide. "Don't worry, Mum wasn't around at the time. So, who is she?" he asked.

Harry leaned back in his chair and let out a breath. He knew he would have to have this conversation with Ron, especially since they would likely need his help for their plan to succeed, but he hadn't planned for it to come about quite like this.

"Listen, mate." He sighed again. "I've been doing quite a bit of self-reflection lately." Ron nodded attentively. "And, erm—what exactly did Ginny say to you?" he asked.

"Not much, only that you seemed content lately and she thought you might be seeing someone."

"Oh."

"She also begged me to be okay with it." Ron shrugged. "I mean, yeah, I wish the two of you were still on, but I can't imagine why she'd think I wouldn't be okay—"

"You really can't imagine? Because I still have whiplash from our last discussion of my love life."

"Okay, _maybe_ I was a bit unreasonable, but it just seemed to be so soon. I'm sorry, mate." Ron lifted his hands in surrender. He leaned in with a wry smile. "So? Who's the lucky witch? Elizabeth Cole in Magical Transportation seems to have the glad eye for you."

"Yeah, no, it's no one at work, mate." Harry swiped a hand over his face. "I wonder how she figured it out," he said to himself.

"Figured what out? Harry?"

"I'm—I'm into blokes, Ron," he blurted, eyeing Ron nervously. Ron slowly sat back in his chair.

"Oh."

"Well, I—I mean, I think I still like females too. Well, I know I do, but—hang on—wait, what do you mean, _'oh'_?"

"I mean, 'oh'. What am I supposed to say?" Ron replied with a shrug.

"You're not…weirded out or anything? I mean—"

"Well…I kinda wondered—I mean, back in school—well, I kind of wondered if maybe the way you were so obsessed, if you didn't have just a little attraction to Malfoy. I mean, I know it's insane! The two of you were bitter rivals, and he was a right poncey arsehole, but Merlin! The way you two were always baiting one another—anyway, that's stupid. No one has seen Malfoy in ages. I wasn't quite sure why you wanted to arrest him."

"He's a material witness in a potential case," Harry replied.

"A _potential_ case?" Ron gave Harry a suspicious look. "What's going on, Harry?"

"Lucius Malfoy poisoned his wife with the Emerald Potion."

"Emerald Potion? You mean the Drink of Despair? Where Voldemort hid the locket? How do you know?"

"I saw him leaving the hospital after I came to visit Ginny, and I was suspicious. Ernie MacMillan is the attending healer. The symptoms he described—it's just like Dumbledore experienced, and what Kreacher told us," said Harry.

"Okay, but what makes you so sure that Lucius did it? Why would he want to kill his wife?"

"He doesn't. I think he only wanted her incapacitated in order to get Draco to come out of hiding." Harry studied the skeptical expression of Ron's face.

"That's pretty extreme, Harry. You know Lucius. You'll have to have ironclad evidence or he's going to find a way to slither right back to his manor scot-free. How is Malfoy a material witness—and since when did you start calling him _Draco?_ "

"I can't go into all of it just yet, but suffice it to say that Lucius needs him home so that he can use him to acquire some sort of artefact. Knowing Lucius—it's probably dark or prohibited. I'm working on a way to take him down before he can do that."

"Hang on—how do _you_ know that's what Lucius is trying to do? Did Narcissa tell you that?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Then—" Ron narrowed his eyes. Harry looked away. "Bloody hell! You _know_ where Malfoy is, don't you?"

Harry worried his lip, his hand moving over the silver cuff on his wrist. Ron caught the movement and grabbed Harry's hand, pulling him forward roughly. The red stone caught the sunlight streaming through the opening in the curtains and turned green.

"You can't be serious!" Ron released his hand as suddenly as he'd grabbed it, recoiling as if he'd been burned. "Harry, are you _mad?_ Is this why Ginny begged me to be okay? Does she know?"

"I didn't tell her. The only other people who know for certain are Dean and Seamus."

"Ha! Figures _those_ two sex fiends would know!" Ron muttered. He leapt from his chair and began to pace. "What the hell, Harry?" He turned abruptly to him.

"I thought you were okay with this!" Harry protested.

"Yeah, I am—with you fancying blokes, _not_ sodding Malfoy _!_ " Ron bellowed.

"Why?"

"Because it's _Malfoy!_ "

"That's not a good enough reason, Ron!" Harry was on his feet now.

"Isn't it? Harry, he's a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! Have you simply forgotten the entire seven years of our lives that we lost to their bullshit? You know what his family did!"

"I _know_ what his _family_ did, Ron! I also _know_ what he was _forced_ to do in order to avoid being _murdered!_ " Harry lowered his voice. He didn't want Draco to come charging in to his rescue. "I also know how he lied for us when we were taken to Malfoy Manor. He _gave up_ his wand to help us escape, Ron. If he hadn't done that, I might not have been able to defeat Riddle."

"Harry—" Ron began.

"No, Ron. You're my best mate. Out of everyone else, I'd have hoped you'd care enough about me to respect my feelings. I've been going round and round, trying to figure things out. Telling myself that it wasn't true—doing what's expected. I can't _do_ that anymore. I just—I can't." Harry stood looking into the fire, one hand on the mantelpiece. "I know what you're thinking, but you said yourself that you thought I was obsessed with Draco—that we were baiting one another. It's true—at least, he was baiting _me_."

"Are you trying to tell me that all of the teasing, taunting, trying to get us detention, the spying—all of that was for your benefit?"

"Well, that— _and_ because he was jealous of you."

" _Me?_ " Ron stared at him incredulously.

"Think about how _you_ reacted when you discovered that Hermione returned Viktor Krum's interest." Ron grimaced.

"I guess I see your point, but you and I, we've only ever been mates. That _is_ all it is, yeah? You don't—" He looked nervously at Harry, who rolled his eyes.

"Hermione was never romantically interested in Krum either," Harry countered.

"So she _says_ ," Ron grimaced. Harry rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

"Ron, did you forget what happened between me and Draco sixth year? If you doubt what he feels is genuine, ask yourself this—who offers their heart to someone who'd once tried to murder them?"

Ron sat down on the couch with a defeated sigh and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Answer me this, Harry. Is _this_ what you have been looking for?" he looked up at his best friend. Harry sat down on the sofa across from him.

"Yeah, mate. I think it is. I really think it is." Harry looked earnestly at Ron, absently fingering the bracelet. Finally the redhead gave a reluctant shrug.

"I don't know, Harry. He's going to have to prove himself. You know that. Hermione's going to have a kitten, and Mum's gonna have a bleedin' _kneazle_ when they find out."

"Ron, you can't tell anyone about this—no, not even Hermione—not yet. I'm sure she'll have plenty to say on the subject, but it'll have to wait. I need your help. Lucius is up to no good, and he's willing to put his own son's life on the line to get what he wants— _again._ He's hired someone to find Draco. I need you to be there when it happens."


	28. Prodigal Son

Lucius gracefully dismounted his horse as he entered the paddock and led the golden palomino into the stables. A large Usambara eagle owl swooped into the barn as he was exiting the storage area where the tack was kept. Lucius took the small, blank envelope from the owl and she leapt into the air without awaiting a reply or reward.

His name appeared when he turned the envelope over, and he recognized the writing at once. It had been four days since the young witch had left with a sizeable portion of his gold, promising to deliver his wayward son. He was beginning to think he'd been hoodwinked, and the contentious conversation he'd had with Nott two evenings prior had done little to improve his mood. He tore open the flap and pulled out the simple piece of parchment. It too appeared blank at first glance. Then the elegant script appeared on the paper.

 _Prewett Lane_

 _1600_

Lucius' jaw fell. How could the American witch possibly know of Prewett Lane? It was the most prestigious wizarding district in London. Some of the very oldest and wealthiest wizarding families had homes there. Narcissa's uncle, Ignatius Prewett owned one of the first homes there. In fact, that's how the avenue had gotten its name. Draco _had_ to be with her. So exclusive was the neighborhood, that Lucius knew precious few wizards and witches who knew of its exact location.

Despite the surprise of the rendezvous point, Lucius was grateful that he would not have to worry about skulking around Diagon Alley or, heaven-forbid, contend with navigating another muggle establishment. He took his watch from his waistcoat and looked at it. It was after two p.m. He apparated to the house. He would have to make haste, there wasn't a great deal of time to prepare, but in less than two hours he would be one step closer to obtaining his prize.

* * *

Draco paced nervously from one end of the kitchen to the other as Adrestia and Harry quietly discussed their plan with Neville. He raked his fingers through his hair and let out a long sigh.

"Draco, love, sit down. Have a cup of tea," said Harry. He pushed a cup and saucer across the table. Draco slumped into a chair and bit his fingernails. He looked up to see Harry giving him a pointed look.

"What?"

"You're biting your _impeccably manicured_ nails." He waved his wand and the cup was filled with tea, dressed exactly the way Draco preferred it. Harry gave it another nudge in his direction.

"I just wish I could be certain that Mother is going to be safe," he replied, tracing a finger around the rim of the cup.

"She will. As soon as it's done, I will personally go to St. Mungo's and escort her here. Kreacher has already restored the master bedroom especially for her." Harry smiled. "He's so excited. I think he even decided at last to put on one of the new tea towels Hermione left for him." Neville and Adrestia grinned.

"I can't believe elves here don't make their own clothes. Mimi would go crazy without her little ensembles. Even our elf, Toussaint, would be horrified to go without the little tunics and trousers he makes from Mama's sewing discards," she said.

"Are we ready to go yet?" Draco asked, irritably.

"Right then, everyone knows their places and what to do. It's two o'clock now. We will meet you there at half past three, Neville," said Harry. Everyone nodded, chairs noisily scraping the stone floor as they pushed away from the table. "Hey," he grabbed Draco's wrist as he turned to follow Neville and Adrestia out of the kitchen. Draco turned to him, lips set in a grim line. Harry took both of his hands and gave them a squeeze. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"Everything has gone according to plan so far. There's no reason to believe that it won't. Your only job is to wait until Adrestia signals you that she has possession of the gold."

"Right." Draco looked down at Harry's thumbs gently moving over the backs of his hands.

"Look at me," said Harry. They locked eyes and Harry gave him a penetrating stare. "No matter what happens, _trust me_. I will sort it." Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Harry placed a hand on the back of his neck and drew him in for a kiss. It was passionate, but not hungry or sensual. This kiss was warm, reassuring and filled with emotion. When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against Harry's, gazing into bright, sincere eyes. "In a moment when I thought my life was over and I had no reason to trust, you came through for me. I need you to do that now. _Trust me_."

* * *

Few people took much notice to the small door in the western face of the Victoria Fountain, most assuming that it simply led to a chamber housing the plumbing. In fact, if a muggle were to venture to open the door, that is exactly what they would see. However, few ever did so, given that it was charmed to keep them away. So, no one paid attention to the trio of young adults loitering about the portal, nor did they appear to observe each of them abruptly disappearing from sight as they casually leaned against it.

Harry was astounded by the lush park he discovered after passing through the octagonal gothic monument. A wide lane was bordered on each side with ornamental trees, planted in perfect symmetry along its length. Beyond the path, narrower walkways branched off to ornate fountains, a croquet court and a number of bowling greens. There were groves of stately, old trees underneath which he noted people taking advantage of the first bright spring day. Beyond the trees, one glimpsed elegant town homes with facades of ashlar stonework. The witches and wizards who strolled along here were finely dressed and eyed the group, who all wore glamours, with disdain and suspicion.

Under a glamour of dark wavy hair and a goatee that made him look, in Harry's opinion, very much like Sirius, Draco led him and Adrestia about two-thirds of the way up the lane before taking one of the narrower paths through a grove of trees to one of the houses. It was a grand edifice which featured a pale brick façade and tall windows surrounding an arched portico with dentil moulding and carved ionic scroll capitals which framed a bright red door.

"It always reminds me of Elizabeth Arden," Adrestia observed.

"Who?" Harry and Draco both looked at her quizzically.

"Never mind." She rolled her eyes. Draco shrugged and lifted the door knocker. After a brief moment, the door was opened by a young house elf.

"Miss Nixie!" she squeaked excitedly. Adrestia smiled at the tiny elf.

"Thank you, Kippy. I'll see to my visitors." Neville appeared moments later, and the elf scurried away.

"Well, this is certainly not what I expected when you said you lived nearby, Neville!" Harry exclaimed as Neville stood back to admit them to the house.

"It's my parents' home," he replied. "Gran kept it for me. I only moved in late last year." He led them up to the piano nobile where a comfortable drawing room was situated, and they all took seats on the opulent furniture.

"Merlin, it makes Number Twelve Grimmauld Place appear dilapidated in comparison!"

"Well, in your defense, Harry. No one was there to look after the place for more than twelve years."

"Well, there was Kreacher, but he treated it more like some dark museum."

"Can we please get straight to business?" Draco snapped before he began to bite his nails once again.

"Right then. Should he become combative, make every effort to minimize risk to innocent bystanders," said Harry.

"I doubt that will happen," said Neville. "Most of the residents here are members of the Twenty-Eight. He won't want to risk damaging what's left of his reputation with indecorous behavior."

"Take nothing for granted. Do not pick up any objects—especially you, Draco—they could be a portkey. Also, try not to get within striking distance. We don't want him to be able to take you side-along."

Draco nodded listlessly.

"Neville and I should get going. He was early for our last meeting. We don't want him to have the advantage," said Adrestia. She transformed her muggle clothing into robes of royal blue and white patterned silk with an embroidered lace yoke, asymmetrical lapel, and stand up collar. Ornate buttons adorned the length of the skirt. With a wave of her wand, her long, thick hair wound itself into an elaborate chignon. She did a star turn, earning her wolf whistles from Neville and Harry. Draco gave a weak smile, and she pulled him to his feet, wrapping her arms about his waist. "Kiss for good luck?" she smiled. His resolve cracked just slightly and he inclined his head to press his lips to hers. "It'll be fine. Trust Harry and remember, this was your plan," she whispered before stepping back and disapparating.

Harry passed Neville his invisibility cloak and he threw it over his head before he too disapparated. Finally, Harry and Draco gave each other one meaningful glance, and disillusioned themselves.

* * *

Lucius never used the entrance to Prewett Lane. He'd only ever visited the upscale London wizarding community by floo or direct apparition into the home to which he had been invited. Given his dark affiliations, those invitations had been few and far between. It wasn't that families here were blood traitors, but following the first war, most had assumed a stance of neutrality. Support of blood supremacy on Prewett Lane was tacit at best. He checked his robes to be certain they hadn't been spoiled when he passed through the fountain chamber, and stood on the plinth surveying the expansive gardens dividing the two rows of grand homes.

She was seated alone on a bench several yards up the path, just past the bowling green. Draco was nowhere in sight. He clutched his walking stick along with the satchel filled with gold, and strode purposefully up the lane, scanning the area from his peripheral vision as he went.

"Well?" he asked as he sat down beside her.

"Good afternoon." She gently moved the fan she held back and forth, her gaze upon a group of children playing croquet.

"Where is he?" Lucius demanded.

"He is nearby. Don't worry. Is it all there?" she asked, closing her fan with a flick of her wrist and pointing it at the satchel.

"It is."

Draco watched the scene unfolding before him from behind a nearby tree. A few yards away, he knew that Harry too was closely observing the unfolding events. This was the closest proximity Draco had been to his father in over a year. He willed his heart to stop pounding.

" _Revelio."_ The satchel briefly became transparent, revealing its contents. "Understand, Mr. Malfoy, that should this payment not reflect our agreement, I will find you, and the financial penalty— _among others_ —will be _steep_." She did not look at him.

" _Where_ is my son, mademoiselle?"

"I'm going to need you to calm your nerves, my dear." She tapped his thigh with her fan. " _All_ will be revealed in due time."

Draco noted her signal and took a deep breath, exhaling with a shudder as he dropped his glamour and disillusionment and stepped from behind the tree, gripping his wand tightly.

"Greetings," he paused, lifting his chin. "Father."

"Son," Lucius breathed dramatically as he stood. He held out his hand. "Come, we must—"

Before he could finish, Draco was suddenly faced by Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Both had their wands drawn upon him.

"What the _bloody hell_ is going on?" Lucius demanded. He grabbed the head of his walking stick and pulled, but Harry leveled his wand at him.

"Not another move, Malfoy!" he snarled.

"Draco Malfoy, I am arresting you as a material witness to the intent to cause grievous bodily harm to one Narcissa Malfoy by employment of an Unforgivable Curse." Ron pulled Draco's arms behind his back.

"I—what? Potter!" Draco protested, jerking away from Ron, who tightened his grip.

" _Colafus!"_ said Ron. A metal band encircled his wrists. "You do not have to provide any memories, however, any memories you yield may be given in evidence. You have a right to limited access to your wand, however, refusal to surrender wand upon request may result in criminal charges. You may request a bond hearing before a special panel of the Wizengamot. After a period of twelve hours, you may be free to leave unless the Polemarch deems it necessary to extend your detention."

"You _stitched me up!_ " Draco screamed.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lucius spun around, only to find the bench deserted and his satchel containing the gold also gone. "That bitch! Draco, do not worry! I will handle this!"

"Let's go, Malfoy!" Ron grabbed his arm and they disapparated.

"No!" Lucius cried. He drew his wand, but Harry too was gone before he could form the incantation of a single curse, leaving him standing in the middle of the park fuming as passersby hurried away.

* * *

"Cissy! Is it really you?" Narcissa looked up at the painting in the front hall. Her aunt stared down with a haughty grimace.

"How do you do, Auntie? It has been a long time." She curtsied.

"Whatever are you doing consorting with the blood-traitor?"

"Harry Potter has kindly opened The House of Black to accommodate me and Draco for a short time. I have been ill and Lucius—well, he is not up to the task of looking after me at this time." The woman in the portrait gave her a suspicious look.

"Well, it is just lovely to have proper family in our home again. _Kreacher!_ " she shrieked. The old elf appeared at once. "Make sure the blood-traitor spares no expense in looking after my dear niece."

The house elf nodded, his ears flopping, and gave a low bow. Harry entered the hall and scowled at the portrait.

"I can assure you, Madame, that Mrs. Malfoy and her son will be well looked after." He turned to the elf. "The master suite is in order?"

"Yes, Master Harry. Miss Cissy will be most comfortable," the elf replied.

"Would you like to rest?" Harry asked, somewhat nervously. "I can show you to your quarters."

"No. I know where the room is, thank you. Actually, I…I would like to speak with you, if I may."

"Oh, erm, of course." Harry led her into the conservatory. She gracefully lowered herself into a side chair near the window and he sat across from her.

"It's been quite a while since I've visited this place," she said, gazing through the window. "When I was a girl, Auntie would hold lavish tea parties there in the garden and Bella, 'Dromeda and I would pretend that the fountain was the Fountain of Fair Fortune. It was actually here that Lucius and I were betrothed. Orion and Walburga had thrown a lavish banquet for Beltane." She turned back to Harry. "Harry, you needn't have done this. As I told Draco, I am willing to return to Malfoy Manor if it will keep him safe."

"Narcissa, it's not a good idea for you to return there. I'm certain that you realize as much. Draco wants to ensure your safety while we deal with Lucius and whatever it is that he is planning. You wouldn't happen to know what that is would you?" Harry asked. She shook her head.

"He's been quite secretive of late, consumed as he was with securing Draco's return for this sham marriage."

"You don't agree with the betrothal."

"I know my son better than anyone, Mr. Potter." She lifted her chin. "Frankly, I don't believe that he is suited for marriage—at least not one as arranged by my husband."

"I see," Harry replied, studiously keeping his face neutral.

"As to the matter of personal security, you should know that The House of Black has blood wards which recognize members of the family tree—including their spouses."

"I am aware. Draco warned me some time ago, and I have removed them. If Lucius were to come here, he would not be granted access."

"How did you find him? My Draco?"

"It was quite by accident. I happened, erm—to enter an establishment where he was entertaining some common acquaintances."

She gave him a smile and a nod.

"You seem quite keen to help him, despite your antagonistic past."

"Well, you saved my life. I think that merits some effort to forge a more cordial relationship."

"Some would suggest that any life debt you owed was repaid when you testified on our behalf at trial."

"Perhaps, but most people have suggestions regarding my life and choices, which tend to be more about achieving their own ends than any real concern with my personal well-being. I've made a conscious decision to live here on out according to my own terms." Harry stood and gave her a smile. "I'm certain that you are anxious to see Draco again. I'll be going to collect him now. Please make yourself at home."


	29. Detention

Draco rubbed his wrists as he paced around the small interrogation room. His heart pounded as if it was going to leap out of his chest. He couldn't understand what had happened. Ron had said nothing when they arrived at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he ushered him into the windowless room with its smooth white walls and anti-disapparation charms. Even the door disappeared when it was closed, leaving him trapped in an inescapable cell.

He took several deep breaths in an effort to stem the mounting anxiety that was threatening to evolve into a full-blown panic attack. After what seemed an eternity, he saw the door appear and open as Harry stepped into the room.

"What the hell was that, Potter? What are you playing at?" Draco screamed. "You said you wouldn't stitch me up! You said I could _trust_ you!" He ran at Harry, shoving him against the wall and wrapping his hands around his throat. Instead of fighting, Harry endured the abuse, his eyes locked on Draco's. When he finally parted his lips to draw in a rasping breath, eyelids heavy, Draco released him. He backed away until he hit the opposite wall where he slid to the floor in defeat. "You _lied_ to me, Harry!"

"Would you rather have gone with Lucius?" Harry whispered.

"You _know_ that I wouldn't. Why did you arrest me?"

"I did it to protect you. There are no charges pending. You're not a suspect in any crime. You _are_ a material witness to your mother's assault. I didn't tell you, because Lucius needed to believe what was happening." Harry crouched in front of Draco. "I'm sorry. It had to be done this way." He sat on the floor beside Draco, shoulders touching. Draco swiped his hand over his face and ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh."

"I suppose you're right. Can we go now? This place just—" Draco shivered. Harry wrapped a gentle arm around him, pulling him close and kissing his temple.

"Not yet, love. I'm fairly certain that Lucius will soon be here demanding your release."

"Big deal! I'm not going anywhere with him!" Draco protested.

"I know that, but you need to talk to him and see if you can get him to confess. We're going to tell him that you _can't_ be released."

"You think he'll try to buy my release."

Harry touched his nose with a slight smile.

"He's down 1.5 million Galleons already, just to find me. What type of bond will they set?"

"They won't. He'll have to come to the one person he knows is capable of swaying the Wizengamot."

Draco lifted his head and gave him a wry smile, but it was quickly replaced by an expression of abject despair.

"In the meantime, I'll be locked away. I don't think I can do it again, Harry. The cold and damp, and the lack of light, no wand—I—" He began to hyperventilate. Harry wrapped his arms tighter around him.

"Draco, relax! Calm down. You won't actually have to stay. I've arranged for you to enter protective custody at an undisclosed location—i.e. Number Twelve. Only a select number of people even know that you're here, and I'm only a little bit sorry to have to tell you this, but more than a few people are happy to stick it to Lucius. It didn't take much effort to sway the right individuals to help us out with this."

"You mean Weasel—Weasley was in on it as well?"

"Yeah." Harry nodded.

"Does he know about…us?"

"Yeah. I told him the other day. Are you okay with that?" Harry asked. Draco shrugged.

"Is _he_ okay with that? I thought it was rather odd that he never bothered to speak a word after cautioning me. I'd have thought he'd be over the moon to slap manacles on me, gloating all the while."

"Well, he's rather more okay with me being bent than with the fact that I'm with you, but he's willing to try to understand."

"Oh, _good!_ I'll add him to the guest list for our wedding then." Draco's tone was sarcastic.

"I sincerely hope that wasn't your idea of a proposal." Harry gave his shoulder a nudge.

"Oh, trust me. When I propose, it will be _far_ more romantic and amazing than this—and it won't include any mention of Weaselby," Draco drawled. "Merlin! When can we get out of here?" he complained.

"It shouldn't be much longer. I've received a number of summonses on my badge. It's beginning to feel like a vibrator in my pocket."

"A vibrator?" Draco looked at him in surprise. "So, does my little pet have a secret he wishes to share?" He reached down and slid his hand between Harry's legs, giving his crotch a squeeze.

"Oi, hover your broom there, mate! I can't exactly go out there with a chubby. It'd be unprofessional." Harry rocked his hips, but reluctantly took Draco's hand before he could go farther. "Should've known sex would draw you out of your maudlin musings." He gave him another light kiss and pushed himself to his feet. "Shall I go see if the elder Malfoy is primed yet?"

"Please do," Draco replied. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall.

"Keep calm, my love. Just try to get him to share his plan if possible." Harry flicked his wand and the door appeared, opening with a click.

"Please don't be long," said Draco.

"Don't bite your nails." Harry left.

* * *

"I _demand_ to see him _this instant!_ " Lucius glared down his nose at the witch on the other side of the desk.

"I'll thank you to lower your voice, _sir,_ " she replied firmly.

"Fine, then I'll see your supervisor," he insisted.

"I am the Senior Patrol Witch and Phylax on duty. If you wish to speak to someone who is in custody, it must be approved by the arresting P.W. or Auror—no exceptions. The detainee you are requesting is still being processed."

"What seems to be the trouble, P.W. Vietti?" Ron Weasley asked as he entered the front office and approached the Phylax, the witch in charge of custody.

" _You!"_ Lucius snarled, his eyes narrow slits. "Was she working with you? She's ICW isn't she? You have _no cause_ to detain my son. I _demand_ his immediate release!"

"I'm afraid I don't know who _she_ is, Malfoy."

"The—" Lucius hesitated. He didn't want to give away too much information. " _Where_ is my _son?_ " he hissed.

"He's in holding."

"I demand to know why he has been detained. I've been searching for him for quite some time. His mother is quite ill and she's anxious to see him."

"I'm afraid I am not at liberty to disclose the nature of Draco's detention, and the Wizengamot Polemarch presiding over his case has denied a bond." Ron shrugged glibly.

"I wish to see my son," said Lucius, teeth clenched. He was appalled to find himself subject to the discretion of a Weasley.

"I suppose we might be able to afford you a _few_ minutes, can't we, Vietti?"

"If it gets me the peace and quiet I need to finish my daily report," she eyed Lucius with derision. "You _so_ owe me for putting up with this one!" she muttered.

"I'll bring you some of 'Mione's chocolate biscuits," Ron winked. He turned to Lucius. "If you'll be so kind as to surrender your wand, _Mr._ Malfoy, I'll be happy to escort you."

Lucius pursed his lips indignantly. Ron crossed his arms over his chest, his expression deadpan. After a moment's standoff, Lucius drew his wand from his walking stick with a flourish and a huff setting it on the counter with a snap. P.W. Vietti flicked her wand and his was placed into a box with two labels. She tore one off and held it out to the impatient wizard. He reached angrily, and she drew her hand back, giving him a pointed look. He held out his hand and she placed the ticket in his palm. Ron waved his wand at the gate that separated the reception from the bullpen. Lucius stepped through and was led across a field of desks where Patrol Witches and Wizards sat preparing reports or taking statements from witnesses and suspects. Many glanced surreptitiously or openly stared at the former Death Eater as he followed Ron to a barred door on the opposite side of the room.

Lucius shivered as they started down the narrow, dimly lit corridor which housed the interrogation chambers. At the end of the passageway was another barred door, which he knew led to a staircase that went down to the holding cells in the catacombs below the Ministry. He shook off the memories of his own incarceration as he followed Weasley to a spot near the far end of the corridor. With a wave of his wand, a door appeared, and Weasley stepped back as it opened.

"I don't have to remind you, Malfoy that apparition and portkey devices do not work in this department. You have five minutes." Lucius gave him a curt nod and swept into the room.

* * *

"Draco!" he exclaimed.

Draco was sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up and his head down. The younger Malfoy scrambled to his feet, a panicked expression on his face. He held himself pressed against the wall.

"Father!"

"Draco, where have you been? Your mother is so worried."

"Father, you have to get me out of here!" Draco begged. "They said something about Mother—what's happened to Mother?" Lucius faltered, unprepared for the question.

"Draco, son, about your mother—she's—" he licked his lips.

"Father, tell me!"

"I'm afraid she tried to kill herself," he said, smoothly.

"No! Mother would never do such a thing!" Draco insisted. Lucius gave his son a disdainful and incensed glare.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you have put her through? Running away like some _peevish_ little brat! All of the stress of the trials and our loss of station in society have taken its toll on her—"

"Stop it! Mother would never try to kill herself! For _once_ just tell me the truth!" Draco yelled. "You _hired_ that hit witch to seduce me and get me to come back here! If mother had truly attempted to end her life, you would have sent someone with an urgent message! You know that I would never refuse to come home to Mother!"

"I—I _had_ to do it, son! She was never in any danger. The potion only—"

" _What_ potion, Father? What did you do?" Draco's voice was shrill.

"You must understand. We've suffered immense losses in the wake of war reparations. A number of valuable artefacts have been seized from the vault—"

"What in _Merlin's_ name does any of this have to do with Mother? What _potion_ did she drink?"

"The Emerald Potion," Lucius admitted at last.

"The Drink of Despair! No—no—Mother would never have drunk it willingly." He vehemently shook his head. "

"I—I imperioused her. Son, you don't understand—she was going to request a divorce. I couldn't allow that to happen. I only wanted to save our family. We would never have regained our position in society!" Lucius' voice was almost plaintive, but Draco was well aware of his father's talent for drama when he felt backed into a corner.

"Are you _mad?_ Damn our place in society, Father! You could have killed her! Weasley as much as said that they think _I_ had something to do with it!" Draco tugged at his cravat as he paced, hyperventilating. "I can't—I can't do this again! I can't go back there! I—I—" Lucius gave him two tight slaps and grabbed him by the lapels of his waistcoat.

"Get ahold of yourself, boy! You are still a Malfoy!" He released Draco with a rough shove. "There is nothing to connect either of us to the act! Your mother has no recollection of what happened. I used Grandfather Lucius' wand, and I told the healers at St. Mungo's that she harmed herself. She's changed her mind about leaving, and all she wants is to see you. I will pay your bond and we'll all go to the continent—stay at the apartment in Paris. Nott is still willing to broker the marriage contract between you and Miette."

"How can you even _speak_ of marriage at a time like this?" Draco whined.

"Stop this whinging at once! It is _imperative_ that you sign that marriage contract! I _must_ obtain that—" Lucius stopped short of completing his thought.

"Obtain _what?_ " Draco eyed him suspiciously.

"That doesn't concern you," Lucius replied with a haughty toss of his hair.

"You expect me to sign away my life with a Black Quill; I think it _does_ concern me!"

"Let's just say that if you sign, the benefit to me could very well be a benefit to _you_."

"I think history has shown I'm not a murderer, Father. So, unless you know a way to turn back time and dissolve this marriage before it happens, then I couldn't think of any benefit to me."

Draco fought to school his features, sliding down the wall once more. He folded his arms, resting them on his knees and lowering his head.

"I have everything under control, so long as you don't lose your head," said Lucius.

"I have to get out of here," Draco said, more to himself than to his father.

"You will, Draco. I will see to it."

The door opened and Ron stepped into the room with Harry.

"Time's up, Malfoy," said Ron.

"On your feet, Draco." Harry stepped over to the son. " _Colafus._ " The metal bands bound his wrists once more, and Harry took him by the elbow, nudging him towards the door.

"Where are you taking him?" Lucius asked.

"As I am sure you recall, all detainees are placed in holding down in the catacombs until trial or release."

What little color he had, drained away from Draco's face and he tripped over his feet, looking back at his father. Lucius matched his stricken look as he watched his son being dragged from the room.

* * *

By the time they reached the bottom of the steep stone stair, Draco was visibly shaking, his rasping breaths echoing off the craggy walls. He wasn't working the plan any longer. He was seventeen again, under arrest for war crimes. The dampness in the air permeated his lungs and he swore that he could hear the voices of those who lay in the underground vaults for eternity calling his name. After they had only gone a few yards down the dimly lit corridor, he suddenly came to a stop. Harry gave his arm a tug, but he did not move.

"Draco." Harry gave him another tug and turned to him. His eyes were glassy and unfocused as if he had been imperioused. "Draco!" he snapped. The other wizard jumped, his breath coming out in short pants. "Come on." Harry tugged his arm again, but he still resisted.

"I—I—" Draco stuttered.

"Oh, for Godric's sake!" Harry shoved him roughly against the wall. "Get a grip, man!" he hissed in his ear. "I'm right here with you…" Harry's breath was warm against his ear. "A few more yards and we're at the apparition point…"

Harry dragged Draco, stumbling the rest of the way down the passage until they reached a vaulted intersection where a pale wizard with a pointed goatee stood at a desk. Harry flashed his badge as he surreptitiously pointed his wand, confounding him.

"We were never here," he said, and pulled Draco into what looked like a circular cage, gripping his arm tightly as he turned.

They landed in the study on the third floor of Number Twelve. Draco was gasping for air and tugging at the bands encircling his wrists.

"I can't—I— _Relashio! Exsolvo! Liber—_ it's not—it's not working!" he panted.

"Of course not! This binding spell is specifically to _prevent_ escape. We'd never be able to detain anyone with a simple Incarcerous spell." Harry gave him an exasperated look. "Even the counter-spell is required to be cast nonverbally."

"Harry, take them off!" Draco demanded with a huff. Harry snorted.

"You know, I don't think I will," he smirked. "You look quite a sight all bound and perfectly helpless." Harry pulled Draco towards him, gripping his ass and rocking their hips together.

"Don't you _dare!_ " Draco growled, the anxiety gone from his voice.

"I think I _will,_ " Harry replied, dropping to his knees. He pressed his face into Draco's crotch, one hand sliding between his legs and pressing against his balls through the expensive fabric. Draco involuntarily spread his legs, and Harry smiled. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them open, delighting in the sight of Draco's already responding cock. He freed it from his pants and licked the tip, eliciting a soft and reluctant sigh.

"Don't you—oh, fuck!" Draco stammered as Harry's lips closed around his shaft. "Fuck! Potter, this isn't f—ohhh!" He was unable to manage coherent speech, so delicious was the heat of Harry's mouth sliding back and forth. He began to thrust forward in response. Harry pulled back and stood up, eyeing him hungrily as he moved his hand over his own bulging crotch.

"Don't _we_ shift gears quickly," he said.

"You _know_ I'm going to make you pay for this," Draco replied.

"I'm looking forward to it." Harry grabbed a fistful of Draco's hair and led him to the desk, bending him over it. " _Resigno Apertus._ "

"Mm!" Draco shuddered and Harry tugged down his trousers and pants.

"You should never have told me that you bottomed for Neville," Harry said, lightly raking his fingers over Draco's skin. "Of course, I already knew you were a switch…" He dropped his own pants and palmed his erection. "…letting me pin you… _Illitus Inlitus…_ choke you…" He wrapped a slick hand around Draco's prick while his own slid tantalizingly along the cleft of the Slytherin's ass. "…demanding that I fuck you…"

Draco moaned and rocked back against Harry, longing to have him inside. Harry pinched him.

"So bossy and impatient…" He slid a finger inside while slowly stroking his cock. "…this is the score of a lifetime…" he slid in another finger, working it back and forth. Draco gave a small whimper. "…you have your lover and your consort—your submissives working the inside…painting a one-point-five _million_ Galleon masterpiece just for you…enjoy it…" Harry removed his fingers and slid slowly inside. Draco let out a low moan of pleasure.

"Have I told you how _amazing_ your arse is?" Harry whispered as he slowly began to move. "Merlin, that first time you let me fuck you, ah! On my drawing room floor…" He stroked deep.

"Oh, fuck!" Draco whispered.

"…I was angry because I thought it was a one-off…" He continued to move agonizingly slowly. The choking grip Draco had on his cock was almost mind-numbing, but he wanted this to last just a bit. "…I still didn't believe you really wanted me…that you would ever let me fuck you again…until you did…ohhh!" His cock pulsed.

"Salazar!"

"…and then you finally, _finally_ fucked me…was it everything you imagined?"

"Ohh, fuck yes!" Draco breathed, he pushed back against Harry.

"I have a secret," said Harry. Draco stiffened anxiously, and the movement constricted Harry's prick even tighter, making him gasp. "I've been a very naughty boy…" He gripped Draco's hips and slid back slowly, almost out of him. "Will you punish me for that if I tell you?"

Draco attempted to push back on his cock, but Harry held him firmly.

"I'm so going to fuck you up, Potter!" he squirmed. "What have you done?"

Harry shoved in hard and Draco cried out. "Relax, love. You wouldn't want Mother to hear would you?" Harry pounded in viciously. "But I bet that turns you on, doesn't it? Ah! Shit!" Draco bit his lip hard to stifle his moans.

"What if…she was right…out…side…this door?" Harry's nails dug into Draco's flesh as he buried his prick inside him. "It's not locked…there's no privacy spells on it…"

"I think she _knows_ you're bent…she certainly hinted at it… _Oh, fuck!..._ how does she know, Draco? …Did you take some Slytherin bloke into your bed at Malfoy Manor?"

"Mm! Ungh! Fuck!" Draco muttered. He tasted blood on his lip.

"No… _I know_ …She heard you wanking as you dreamed of me…" Harry let out a gasp of mock surprise. "Does she know you've fancied me all this time? …Has she figured out our little secret? …I wonder what she would think about that? …Am I son-in-law material?"

Harry's cock began to pulse with the intense thrusting, Draco tensing around him as he struggled to remain quiet, his arousal building to climax.

"Oh! Oh! Fuck, Harry! Fuck!" Draco growled.

"Yes! Oh, shit! Shit! Shit! Oh! Oh! Ohhhhhhh!" Harry convulsed, orgasm washing over him. He braced himself against the desk as Draco shuddered and clenched, spilling onto the front of the large, antique desk. They remained joined together for a period, catching their breath.

 _Exsolutus_

The fetters holding Draco's wrists vanished and Harry gently kneaded his shoulders. He kissed the back of his neck.

"Feeling a bit more relaxed now?" he whispered, placing Draco's wand on the desk. Draco snatched it up and whirled around, placing it under Harry's chin as he grabbed a fistful of dark hair. The sound of his mother's voice outside the door gave him pause.

"Kreacher, I would like a cup of tea before dinner. Da Hong Pao, please. I shall be in the drawing room." As her voice faded down the stairs, he gave Harry's hair a sharp tug.

"When you least expect it, you will _pay_ for this!" he whispered. Harry smirked as he winced under the discomfort in his scalp. Draco scowled at him and he scraped his teeth over Harry's collarbone. "Thank you," he muttered and turned to put his clothing to rights. "Can't _believe_ you let my mother hear us fucking!" He buttoned his shirt.

"I didn't. _Finite,_ " Harry replied with a smirk. Draco's head shot up. "Come on. Do you honestly think _that's_ how I want her to find out about us? There is an 'us', isn't there? Will you tell her?"

"Let's go," Draco replied. He turned to the door. Harry grabbed his hand and gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. "Let's not do this right now." He turned again, but Harry held on. Draco let out a breath and looked down. "What are you wearing?" He brushed his thumb over the silver cuff. "Let's _go_ ," he said firmly.

* * *

Narcissa sipped the fine Chinese tea and closed her eyes, savoring its robust flavor and fruity tones. It had been her aunt's favorite tea, and so prized were its leaves that Walburga was said to keep a store of it in the family vault, only serving it to her most special guests. She admired the handpainted gilding on the jade gaiwan in which Kreacher had expertly served the tea.

"Mother." Draco's voice was soft and she turned around.

"Draco." She breathed, rising to her feet. "Oh, my darling son!" She rushed into his arms. "My darling, I've been so worried about you! Why are you still here? If your father should find out—" Narcissa gripped his hands tightly.

"He already knows that I am here, Mother."

"Draco, no! You aren't _seriously_ considering going through with the betrothal?" Her voice was full of anxiety. Draco led her to the settee and sat beside her.

"Of course not, Mother. It's all part of my plan. He thinks that I have been detained in the matter of your case."

"My case? What plan?" Narcissa asked.

"Madam Malfoy, we have reason to believe that your husband intentionally poisoned you, perhaps in an effort to draw Draco out of hiding. He has employed an unforgivable curse to cause grievous bodily harm."

"…And for that, I will _ensure_ that he should pay!" Draco declared. "He won't use the family fortune to worm his way out of this one, Mother. When I am done, he will have _nothing!_ "

"Draco—" she began.

"No, Mother! He admitted to casting the Imperious Curse to get you to drink the Emerald Potion, then he lied and said you'd done it all on your own! I've figured out what he wants from Theodore Nott too! I know why he wants me to marry his sister." Draco turned to Harry.

"Oh, Draco! What have you done! He'll stop at nothing to ensure that you don't reveal what he's told you!"

"That's exactly what I'm counting on, Mother. I'll bet you didn't know that he's spent one-and-a-half million Galleons to find me. Did he tell you that?"

"But that's—that's insane! And how did you _know_ this?" she asked.

"Because I'm the one he paid. However, he has no idea that work for Draco."

Narcissa turned to see a handsome young woman dressed in muggle clothing consisting of trousers, that looked to Narcissa to be tights without the feet in them, and a sweater that bared her dark belly, striding into the room.

"Your husband paid two installments of gold bullion with a total worth of 750 thousand Galleons each time." She sat down beside the piano, crossing her long legs as she rested her elbows on the lid protecting the keys. Narcissa gave her a derisive scowl.

"I see. Draco, who is this young woman?"

"Mother, may I present my consort, Miss Adrestia Saint-Julien."

"Saint-Julien…and you are…American?"

"Yes, ma'am. My father is Haitian, but I was born and raised in the United States."

"And you say that you _work_ for my son? He called you his consort. What exactly is the nature of your relationship, Draco?" She looked at her son questioningly. Draco looked from Adrestia to Harry and then back to his mother.

"It's complicated, Mother," he replied.

"Enlighten me, then." Narcissa squared her shoulders and set her lips primly. Draco knew that there was no escaping this conversation.

"Adrestia works for me. We are quite close."

"Go on. _How_ close, exactly? What are your intentions, my son?" She looked down her nose at him. Draco grimaced.

"We are _close_ , Mother. However, I have no intention of seeking her hand."

Narcissa stared at him, aghast. She glanced at Adrestia, who appeared unconcerned with the revelation and gave a slight shrug. She turned back to her son. Despite a general lack of reverence for the marital bed, it was considered uncouth for an unmarried pureblood to enter a marriage with anything but an unsullied reputation. Draco returned her stare and drew a deep breath. He stood and moved to stand beside Harry's chair, placing a hand upon his shoulder.

"Harry is my companion, Mother. I am in love with him." He lifted his chin and looked squarely at Narcissa.

Narcissa looked from Draco to Harry, and pursed her lips.

"Mr. Potter," she picked up her tea and warmed it with her wand, taking a sip. "Are you in love with my son?"

"To be perfectly honest, Madame, I can only say at this time that I care very deeply for Draco and I believe that our bond will grow and strengthen over time. This is all very new for me. It is my understanding, however, that Draco realized his affections toward me much earlier than I for him."

"Indeed!" Narcissa snorted, and took a final sip of tea, carefully settling the lid upon her gaiwan before she placed it on the tea table between them.

"Mother? Are you saying that you _knew?_ " Draco asked, astonished.

"Of course I knew, my son. I'd had an inkling that your predilections tended towards males before you went away to school. However, as far as Harry is concerned, I saw the twitch in your eye whenever your father, Bella, or some other of our circle would insult him. I saw the relief in your expression at the World Cup, when you learned that Harry had survived the attack on the camp. That day in Madam Malkin's, I saw the set of your jaw and the angle of your shoulders when he walked away from your confrontation." She paused a moment and studied her hands in her lap before she spoke again. "You didn't know I was still there, but in the hospital wing that night, I saw the way you cried for _him,_ even though he'd nearly killed _you._ " She looked up, her gaze squarely on her son. "I _saw you surrender_ your wand to Harry when they escaped The Manor. That was the moment I knew that you loved him. I _lied_ to the Dark Lord not only to protect _you_ , but also because I would never be able live with myself knowing that I allowed that monster to destroy our world and take away the only person who mattered to you."

Draco sat gingerly on the arm of the chair and Harry placed a hand on his leg, giving it a squeeze.

"Why did you never say anything?" he asked. "Why did you keep pushing me towards Pansy?"

"It was too dangerous for the two of you to be together then. You're my only child. If your father had found out, he'd have beaten you—not just for engaging in relationships that wouldn't produce an heir—for choosing our nemesis. I pushed you towards Pansy because I didn't think that this could ever happen. I was afraid that Harry would reject you, and the way that you lash out when you're hurt—I thought you might betray him to the Dark Lord. Worst of all, when I was certain of what I was seeing, you had taken the Dark Mark. We were in too deep, and I feared that Bella would find out. From there, it would be a very short leap to Voldemort and we would all be finished. He surely would have used you to get to Harry."

"That's when you went to Snape and asked him to protect Draco," said Harry. Narcissa stiffened, narrowing her eyes at him.

"How do you know that?"

"He wrote me a letter. We found it at his house," said Draco.

"His—how—" Narcissa looked from one wizard to the other.

"I was made administrator of Snape's estate. Draco and I went to Cokeworth to sort his effects not long ago," said Harry.

"Well, it's your house now, I suppose," said Draco, nodding at Harry. "But we discovered a package, and letters he'd written to each of us."

"I see," she replied, her voice strained.

"Mother, Severus said nothing about your relationship. I've known for ages. I discovered you together when Father was in Azkaban."

"Draco, I—" Narcissa began. Draco held up his hand.

"There's no need to explain. It's not as if I don't understand the peculiarities of an arranged marriage. Besides, Father certainly made little secret of his dalliances."

"No…he did not," Narcissa scowled, cutting her eyes toward Adrestia.

"Madame Malfoy, Draco trusts me, and he pays me generously for my singular ability to obtain whatever information or reward is necessary to accomplish his objectives." Adrestia tapped her collarbone in a seemingly absent manner as she spoke, but Narcissa took the hint. "However, I _am_ a lady with standards, and I can assure you that, although he might _believe_ such a thing happened, I did _not_ have relations with your husband."

"Very well," Narcissa reluctantly replied, and turned back to her son. "What exactly is your objective, Draco?"

"It is very simple, Mother. Lucius cares only about himself. He has willingly sacrificed us both in his reckless pursuit of power once again. I plan to put a stop to it once and for all."

"Can't he be arrested, then? You said there was a case," she said, looking to Harry.

"I don't just want him _arrested_ , Mother. I want him humiliated and _destroyed!_ When I'm done, he will be exposed for the scheming, manipulative rat he really is!"

* * *

Harry stroked the feathers of the large Bubo Bubo owl that perched on his arm, talons firmly pressing into the sleeve of his jacket.

"He's a very good flier and seems at ease with long distances," said the clerk.

"He is magnificent. I have a new aviary, and I'm actually in the market for two birds. Is there one that he seems genial towards?" Harry asked as he held his arm up and the raptor hopped onto the perch mounted on the sales counter.

"Well, now that you mention it, another bird came in on the same day. They seem to have developed an affinity for one another. Usually the males are funny about sharing the roost, but not these two." The clerk moved to the far corner of the shop where the owl's cage now stood empty, and unlatched the next cage.

Harry took in a sharp breath when a large snowy owl swooped out of the cage and flew to the perch on the counter, landing beside the other owl.

"You look a bit stunned, Mr. Potter. As you can see, they share an interesting affinity."

"He—he looks like Hedwig," Harry stammered.

"Your first owl, yes?" the clerk asked. "I remember." Harry nodded. "His clutch came from the same mother."

Harry let out a short sigh and blinked back a tear as he pulled out his money pouch.

"I'll take them both. Send them to my house." He took a slip of parchment and scribbled a note. "Have this one…" He indicated the eagle owl. "…deliver this note." The clerk nodded, and Harry paid the gentleman, also purchasing some owl treats and aviary supplies before exiting the store.

Harry checked his watch as he stepped out of the shop onto Diagon Alley and turned in the direction of the Leaky Cauldron. The mid-afternoon street was only mildly busy, populated largely by witches making domestic purchases—most visiting the apothecary and the broom shop, or one of the grocery stalls in the street. As he stepped through the arch that led to the yard behind the pub, Harry felt a rigid object tap against his shoulder. He turned around, wand in hand, to face Lucius Malfoy.

"Might I trouble you for a few moments of your time, Potter?" he asked, coolly.

"Very few, Malfoy. I have other pressing engagements this afternoon."

"Of course you do, what with being the Saviour of the Wizarding World and all."

"What is it that you want, Malfoy?" Harry asked, his tone querulous.

"Perhaps I could buy you a drink."

"Perhaps you could get to the point."

"Fine." Lucius gestured to The Leaky Cauldron. "Shall we?"

Harry rolled his eyes and led the way into the pub. They requested a room and Harry stationed himself beside the window.

"Well then?" he asked.

"You have to get Draco released," Lucius said.

"I do not have to do anything of the sort," Harry replied, dispassionately.

"Draco is not cut out for detainment. The anxiety—"

"I think you underestimate your son, Lucius. Draco is not the same person you raised or that I went to school with."

"And what exactly qualifies _you_ to make such an assessment? I thought you hadn't been in contact with my son." Lucius eyed Harry with suspicion.

"He _did_ manage to evade all of us without a trace for a little more than a year, didn't he?" Harry raised a brow. Lucius scowled in response before schooling his expression.

"Draco _must_ receive a bond. You seem to hold sway with members of the Wizengamot. There must be one or two Archontes amenable to your suggestion." Lucius' tone was just short of pleading. Harry snorted and turned to the door.

"I do have a previous engagement. Good day, Malfoy." As Harry reached the door, Lucius lifted the end of his walking stick against the door, barring him from opening it. Harry turned, wand pointed.

"You _can't_ be serious!"

"I can make it worth your while," said the elder Malfoy.

"I doubt that," Harry replied. "I'm rather enjoying the public's trust these days. I seriously doubt there is anything you could offer to entice me into brokering a deal with _you_ , Lucius. Now, will you step aside, or do I have to hex you?"

"Think about it."

Harry scoffed, raising his wand higher. They faced off for a few seconds, before Lucius yielded, stepping back. Harry snatched open the door and sidled out, keeping an eye on the other wizard as he stepped into the corridor and disapparated.

" _Every_ man has a price, Potter," Lucius muttered before he too, disapparated.

* * *

"Honestly! This wisteria looks as if it's attempting to escape!" Narcissa declared, shaking her head.

"Come now, Mother, not everyone chooses the benefit of a top landscaper," Draco replied. He flicked his wand, vanishing the tarp that covered his bike, and pushed it to the center of the garden near the fountain.

"Well, they _should!_ Auntie Walburga had the most sought-after wizard landscaper in London!" Narcissa argued over her shoulder. She pointed her wand at the flowering vine and began to reshape the plant. Soon the fragrant purple blossoms resembled a curtain over the back wall, arching gracefully above the gate and creating a veil of flowers across the entry.

"Of course she did, but this is Harry's house now, and he rather prefers to do things himself," said Draco, conjuring a rag and polish which he began to rub vigorously into the chrome fixtures of the cycle.

"It certainly shows." His mother turned and gasped, staring at him. "My gods, Draco! What are you _doing?_ What is that thing?"

"It's a motorbike, Mother. I'm polishing the chrome."

"Whatever for? Didn't Sirius have one of those noisy, frightening muggle contraptions? Auntie despised it!" She approached cautiously.

"He did. Harry has it now. I'm polishing it because I want to. I like to see the shine. It makes the ride so much more enjoyable."

"The _ride?_ "

"What can I say, Mother? Some of Harry's infuriating muggle ways can also be quite endearing."

"I think I'm going to be ill!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"Oh, pooh!" Draco rolled his eyes. "How about I take you for a ride?" Narcissa let out another gasp. "I'll bet you'd love it!" His mother scoffed, clutching a hand to her chest.

"Now I'm _certain_ you're in love with him!" She eyed the motorcycle. "Imagine! _My son,_ engaging in _muggle_ pastimes! What next, cooking?"

"I _do_ know how to cook, Mother. I also have a mobile phone and I've been learning to use an erm— _com-puter—_ yes, that's what it's called. Adrestia, has been teaching me."

"Is she— _muggleborn?_ " Narcissa asked, wrinkling her nose. Draco let out a breath and tried not to roll his eyes.

"No, Mother. Adrestia is a pureblood, descended from one of America's most famous witches, in fact. However, her parents raised her in the muggle world. They make their living from it as well."

"Oh, my word!"

"They own a thriving botanica which caters to magical and non-magical clients."

"They practice the vaudou?" she asked.

"It's _not_ dark magic, Mother."

"I am well acquainted with the practice, Draco. Give me at least a little credit, my son. I think you realize I know more than you think. So," she clasped her hands in front of her. "You've been in America all this time?"

Draco set the polish and cloth on the saddle of the bike. He circled the machine and came to stand in front of his mother, taking her hands.

"It wasn't just the betrothal that I had to get away from, Mother. It wasn't just _him._ I needed to get away from everything. The world was choking me to death, and if I didn't get away from the distrust, the familiar things that just brought up memories of the war, I was going to _die._ I had no one to talk to, and I thought the one thing—the one person—that I wanted most, I would never, _ever_ have. I just decided on impulse that maybe the muggle world wasn't as bad as we'd been taught it to be." He shrugged. "I was _woefully_ unprepared, but I'm a Malfoy. I would learn and adapt the situation to my advantage. So, I did. I've a lovely home in a respectable community. The assets which I received in my birthright are thriving, as is my bank account. I just—I just want an opportunity to be _content_. I want that for you as well, it's why we _must_ put a stop to Father's machinations." He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. She looked up at him and gently touched his cheek.

"I understand." Narcissa's smile morphed to curiosity as she looked up towards the roof. Draco looked up and followed her gaze.

Two large raptors swooped down into the garden. One, a snowy owl whose appearance gave Draco a start, deposited a package on the terrace steps and flew up to perch on the edge of the fountain's top tier basin. The other, which reminded him of the majestic owl he'd received on his eleventh birthday, landed on the seat of Draco's bike. It held out a leg, bearing an envelope addressed to "Ferret." He took the envelope and the bird took off to join the other on the fountain. Draco opened the note.

 _"_ _Dearest Ferret,_

 _I hope you like him. The shopkeeper says that these two have a 'peculiar' affinity for one another. The snowy owl is called Ekbert. Perhaps you'll have a name for yours when I get home. Anyway, I can't think of a better way to start our family. (wink)_

 _Always,_

 _P._

"He looks quite like Wei-Wei," said Narcissa. Draco nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking. He cleared his throat.

"I—erm—I have something that I need to do, Mother."

"Of course, my darling," she replied. He ran into the house. Narcissa looked after him a moment before calling Kreacher to take in the package and prepare the aviary for the birds.

"Adrestia, my love!" Draco burst into the kitchen where the witch was grinding herbs for sachets. She paused, pestle in her fist, and looked at him. "I need you to do something very important for me."

"Okay, so long as I don't have to seduce your father again." She winked.

* * *

Harry was surprised when the gate opened and he saw a veil of wisteria part as he turned his motorcycle into the garden where Draco stood on the terrace, the eagle owl on his hand. Ekbert was perched on the back of a bench a few feet away. Harry shut down the bike's engine and dismounted it with a broad smile.

"I see the new additions arrived okay," he said.

"He's gorgeous!" Draco exclaimed.

"Have you decided on a name?"

"But first, I have to know—why _Ekbert?_ " he asked as he nodded.

"Ekbert is simply the perfect name for Hedwig's brother," Harry replied, matter-of-factly. Draco shook his head and snorted.

"If you say so."

"Well, what's the name of our other boy?" Harry asked again.

"Niao-Ka," Draco replied.

"Niao-Ka." Harry repeated. "And why that name?"

"It mean's bird's nest," said Draco, releasing the raptor. It flew to the aviary, followed by the snowy owl. "Like that mess on top of your head," he smirked. Harry pursed his lips. "Thank you, love."

Harry stepped up onto the terrace and wrapped his arms around Draco, pressing his lips to his.

"Of course." He slid his hands over Draco's back. "By the way, you look good enough to eat!" he whispered, stepping back to admire the skintight shirt that the blond wore. The mesh body showed off every muscle in his torso. The sleeves were leather—one of which was fashioned to resemble dragon scales. His matching black trousers appeared to be painted on and Harry stepped back to admire him.

"I love it when you worship me." Draco grinned. "It makes this so much more exciting." His smile turned sinister.

"Makes what so much more exciting?" Harry asked, giving Draco an inquisitive and enthusiastic look. "What are you up to, Malfoy?" he asked, his voice somewhere between suspicious and aroused. Draco's hand shot out and he curled his fingers around Harry's throat. Harry let out a shocked gasp and grabbed his wrist only a second before they disapparated.


	30. Girls' Night Out

"Don't worry about dinner, Kreacher. Madame Malfoy and I are going out," said Adrestia, when the elf appeared to inquire as to their preferences.

"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa stared at Adrestia.

"Draco requested that I take you out for the evening. He doesn't want you to feel confined," the young woman replied.

"I—but I thought the reason that I am here was to protect me," said Narcissa.

"Oh, you'll be fine. A simple glamour and the right clothes should do the job. Besides, where we're going, no one is likely to recognize you." Adrestia smiled. Narcissa regarded her with suspicion.

" _Where_ exactly are we going?"

"Well, I can tell you where we're _not_ going, and that's any place where witches and wizards congregate in large numbers."

"You aren't seriously suggesting we visit a… _muggle_ establishment?" Narcissa looked horrified.

"I'm not _suggesting_ anything, ma'am. I'm _telling_ you that's what we're going to do." Adrestia raised a brow and leaned against the credenza.

"No—no, I can't do that. No." Narcissa shook her head vigorously.

"Draco's orders." The young witch shrugged and gave a smile. "I make it my personal mission to please Draco in every way. I really would hate to fail at the task he has given me."

Narcissa pursed her lips, taking in the earnest expression on the young woman's dark face. She still wasn't entirely certain about the dynamics of the relationship between the American and her son, but it was clear that theirs was more than a business arrangement. It hadn't escaped her notice that Harry seemed as unconcerned about this bond as she appeared to be about his relationship with Draco. That idea made her curious and she let out a purposeful sigh.

"Well, if my son has requested it, then I suppose I must. I've never truly been able to refuse Draco anything."

"Awesome!" Adrestia exclaimed. "This is going to be a night you won't forget!"

A few minutes later, Narcissa frowned at her appearance in the mirror.

"No, not black hair. I look too much like my sister," she said, picking up her wand.

"Is that bad?"

"It isn't, unless you don't mind being mistaken for a vicious murdering lunatic who's supposed to be dead." She made her hair blonde again, but instead of the pale, nearly-white platinum, she gave herself more honey undertones which highlighted the slight tan Adrestia had given her.

"I thought we were talking about your sister," Adrestia replied, staring into the mirror with a shocked expression.

"We _are._ Bellatrix was the Dark Lord's most devoted follower. I think she may well have been his mistress too. It's _her_ fault that Harry nearly murdered my Draco."

"Jesus!" Adrestia exclaimed. "Well, I can certainly understand how that might be a problem if we were to run into a No-Maj-born while we were out."

"A what?"

"No-Maj, a non-magical person. I think you call them, what is it—muggle?"

"Ah, yes, of course. How interesting." Narcissa turned her head from side to side, examining her reflection. "What's next? I suppose there must be a change of attire?"

"That's right." Adrestia stepped back and Narcissa rose gracefully from her chair as Adrestia imagined Joan-of-Arc doing before being led to the stake. She snickered. "It's not going to be as painful as you might think, Madame."

"That remains to be seen." The older witch moved to stand in the center of the room, chin up and hands clasped before her. She sighed dramatically.

"Lord!" Adrestia muttered and shook her head. She circled Narcissa, examining her. "You know, you really look _amazing_ for your age. No one would believe that you have a son who's nearly twenty years old."

"Oh, well, I—I mean, I've tried to look after myself." Narcissa managed a slight smile of pride.

"It shows! I hope I look half as good twenty years from now."

"Well, let's get on with it, then!" Narcissa closed her eyes dramatically and held her breath.

"I think I know what we should go for." Adrestia waved her wand and transformed Narcissa's robes. She hummed a tune from a classic animated film. " _Put 'em together and whaddya got?"_ she sang. " _Bibbity-bobbity-boo!_ " Adrestia waved her wand. "And here we are!"

"Merlin's dress robes!" Narcissa exclaimed when she finally opened her eyes and turned to her reflection in the full-length mirror. "I—you—I— _trousers!_ Trousers?"

Narcissa wore a white lace blouse with pearl buttons and French cuffs, and a pair of slim-fitting jeans. Her own plum-colored, Edwardian-style satin shoes with Louis heels and pearl ornaments pulled the entire look together with what Adrestia thought was a hint of boho chic. She giggled.

"In America we call these jeans. You look _amazing!_ We should take a picture for Draco. He'll never believe his mother actually wore muggle clothing!"

Narcissa rolled her eyes, but acquiesced, grateful that the girl didn't attempt to dress her in an outfit similar to her own attire made up of another pair of skintight trousers with a chemise which appeared to have only one button, leaving her cleavage and bellybutton on display. Her heels looked like wands and Narcissa wondered how she managed to balance in the shoes.

"And where exactly am I to put my wand?" she asked.

"Your pocket has an undetectable extension charm," the younger witch replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "You'll also need this." She conjured what looked like a calling card, but when Narcissa took it, she saw that the thin card bore her picture and other identifying information. She gave Adrestia a bemused look. "It's an I.D.—an identification card. It's required in order to purchase alcohol and get into some nightclubs."

"What's a nightclub?" Narcissa asked. What was she about to get into?

"It's like a pub, but with music and dancing." Adrestia checked her appearance in the mirror.

"Oh, Morganna! I don't even recall the last time I even attended a ball!" She moved to stand just behind Adrestia and beside her enough to gaze once more at herself in the mirror, twisting and turning to examine her strange new ensemble as she suddenly realized that there was something liberating about wearing trousers. Adrestia suppressed a grin.

"Well, I doubt there'll be any waltzing, but I think you'll manage. Are we ready?" she asked. Narcissa let out one last sigh and nodded nervously, taking her hand.

* * *

They landed just outside the Leaky Cauldron. Narcissa looked around curiously, having never been on the muggle street outside the pub. There was a bookshop on the opposite sidewalk and automobiles parked at the curb. She peered into the window of the nearest car.

"You look fine, Madame. I promise," said Adrestia.

"What are all those gadgets and gizmos?" she asked, pointing to the car's interior.

"That's the dashboard. The panel behind the steering wheel—that's the circular thing there—lights up when the car is running. It shows how fast you're driving, how much gas—uh—petrol you have, things like that. The one in the middle has controls for the stereo, heating and cooling, and things like that."

"It's flashing." Narcissa pointed to a small red LED that was blinking.

"Yeah, that means that the security system is armed, so we probably shouldn't touch the car." Narcissa immediately jumped back, nervously. Adrestia suppressed a grin.

"I can't go into the Leaky Cauldron dressed like this!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"The Leaky Cauldron?" Adrestia gave her a curious look. Narcissa pointed to the dilapidated building they stood in front of just as two witches exited the establishment and disapparated. "Whoa! That's a magical business? I had no idea! Well, we're not going there anyway. We're headed up the street." Adrestia gestured for Narcissa to join her, and they headed up the avenue.

The traffic was moderate and there were a modest number of pedestrians on the sidewalk as they strolled casually along. They passed a number of booksellers and skirted crowds gathering outside of a few theatres for the evening's shows. Adrestia stopped at a brightly lit establishment just past a music shop, and pulled open the door. Narcissa stared at the large white letters above the awning which read _McDonald's._

"Come on!" Adrestia waved her inside.

"This is a… _restaurant?_ " Narcissa looked around nervously. Groups of people were seated at simple tables, eating sandwiches and other items from paper wrappings and sipping beverages through tubes in their cups. There were queues of people at a long counter where barmaids and barmen in curious uniforms took their orders. Adrestia led her to one of the lines, and pointed to a large, brightly lit board behind the counter with pictures and words on it.

"Have you ever had a hamburger before?" Adrestia asked.

"Erm—no." Narcissa stared at the young man who passed her, carrying a tray laden with paper-wrapped food items. "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the French fries spilling out of their container on to the paper tray liner.

"Chips—well, in America, we call them fries. Here we go. It's our turn to order."

Adrestia ordered a Big Mac and large fries for herself, and recommended a Quarter Pounder with cheese for Narcissa, along with fries and a Sprite. Adrestia chose Diet Coke. They found a table near the window and unwrapped their food. Narcissa looked around in distress.

"What's wrong?" Adrestia asked.

"Where's the flatware?"

"Well, generally a burger is eaten with your hands, see?" Adrestia indicated the patrons around them, and picked up her own sandwich, taking a big bite. She pulled a paper napkin from the dispenser on the table and dabbed her lips. Narcissa stared at her aghast. "Try it!"

Narcissa pulled a face and gingerly lifted her burger, taking a dainty nibble. Her expression changed to one of wonder.

"It's…different." She took another bite, and then tried a french fry. This time, she closed her eyes with delight. Narcissa grabbed a handful of fries and shoved them into her mouth. "Mmm!"

Adrestia laughed, poking her straw into her drink cup. Narcissa watched her and did the same. She picked up her cup and looked at it curiously.

"Just inhale a little, and the drink will siphon up the straw," Adrestia directed. Narcissa did as instructed. Her brows shot up when she finally tasted the soft drink.

"Amazing!" she exclaimed. "But this can't be terribly nutritious. Muggles eat like this all the time?"

"Oh, no. This is what we call fast food. You can get it on the go without the bother of a long wait, and since you don't need utensils to eat most of the items, you can eat it on the go as well. In some locations, you can even order straight from your car, at the drive-through window."

"Fascinating!"

Narcissa peppered Adrestia with questions as they ate, and the young witch told her about planes, trains, and automobiles.

"Trains that run underground? And they're not magic?" Narcissa was dumbfounded.

"Nope. In some cities, they're elevated above the street. In my mother's hometown, the streetcar line still runs from one end of the old city to the other."

Narcissa shook her head with wonder. She looked out of the window at the pedestrians passing on the street.

"The women all look so comfortable in these _jeans_ trousers!"

"Trousers and jeans are the best thing to happen to women since sliced bread—and the pill," Adrestia laughed.

"What's _the pill_ _?_ "

"Umm…something I'll have to explain some other time."

They finished their meals and headed out once again, slipping into a nearby alley to disapparate.

* * *

The loudness of the bass thumping in the nightclub pounded in Narcissa's ears and she perched uneasily on her stool at the bar, one hand on her wine glass. Adrestia had been pulled onto the dance floor by a tall fellow with long dreadlocks. She gawked openly at the mass of bodies moving beneath the pulsing lights. A handsome gentleman who might have been close to her age had asked her to dance. She nervously accepted, wholly unsure of what to do amidst the loud, lively music. She muddled through, and admitted she wasn't much of a dancer. He didn't seem to mind, and they simply moved in time to the beat, mimicking the others around them. After a few songs, he accompanied her back to the bar and hailed the server. Narcissa ordered another glass of wine.

"Absinthe please," he said. She stared at him curiously. "What is it? Did I say something wrong?" he asked.

"Oh, no, not at all! I erm, absinthe seems a rather daring drink," she said. "Are you not frightened of the hallucinations?" He laughed, sliding a note to the bartender when his drink was placed down.

"That's an old wives' tale! Truly, absinthe is no more harmful in modest amounts than that glass of wine you have." He took a sip. "Have you ever tried it?" he asked. Narcissa was taken aback. Perhaps it didn't have the same effect for muggles.

"Erm, only once. I was quite young, and it didn't agree with me at all." She recalled Lucius offering her the spirit during their honeymoon in Calais. She'd had horrifying hallucinations, which—suddenly her mind flashed back several nights.

* * *

She and Lucius had shared another dinner filled with stiff conversation and frosty stares. She'd informed him over dessert of her intention to move into the apartment in Paris until she could find suitable lodgings of her own.

" _Narcissa, you're being unreasonable. What is this all about?"_

 _"_ _I'm tired, Lucius. I no longer wish to continue our marriage. There's nothing left. Our reputation is in tatters, our son is gone, and all you can think about is gaining what you think is power once again! I don't understand why you are so hungry for something that has already practically destroyed us over and over."_

 _"_ _All I want is to restore the Malfoy name to its proper position in society. It will be like before. The business is as strong as ever. We simply need Draco to marry and sire an heir, and I can—"_

 _"_ _Did it ever cross your mind that Draco doesn't want to marry the girl? Why must he have an arranged marriage?"_

 _"_ _Because it is tradition, Narcissa. I've contacted the governors at Durmstrang. If we find him, he can still enroll in the fall, even if he's married. They'll make an exception for the right sort of student. It will be perfect."_

 _"_ _Perfect? How will it ever be perfect? You aligned our family with a madman, ALL in your quest for POWER, Lucius! You sacrificed our only child and nearly got him KILLED! I will not stand by and let you sell him to feed your insatiable ego ever again!" She pushed away her plate and left Lucius sitting at the dining table. He found her a few minutes later, standing at the window of the library, and offered her a glass of chartreuse._

 _"_ _Forgive me, darling. Please, can we talk about this?"_

 _"_ _I want my son back, Lucius. I want the family we had before the madness, when we were young and full of dreams for our darling boy." She stared at the glass in his hand._

 _"_ _I will fix it. I promise." He set the glass on the sideboard and drew her into his arms. "_ Imperio!" _he whispered._

 _"_ _What?"_

* * *

Narcissa shook off the memory and clutched her hand to her chest. Her companion gave her a concerned look.

"Is everything okay? You look unwell," he said.

"I—I need to find my friend. I—" Narcissa scanned the dance floor until she spotted Adrestia, and she waved frantically. Adrestia pushed her way through the throng until she reached the bar.

"What's up? Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Yes! Yes it is. I need to go now. I need to speak to Draco right away!"


	31. Wizards on Edge

Draco held Harry in a choke hold when they landed. Harry immediately recognized the strong room that Dean and Seamus used as a dungeon. Dean stood holding a leash wrapped around his hand that was clipped to a collar around Seamus' neck. The submissive Gryffindor knelt between Dean and Neville.

"Okay, what's all this then?" Harry asked. His eyes moved from Dean to Neville, and he tried to turn his head, but Draco held him tightly. His fingertips dug into his neck just enough for Harry to feel slightly breathless.

"You are aware of the rules in this dungeon, Harry," said Dean. "The first of which is what?"

"Erm…no…talking," Harry swallowed, squirming just a bit in Draco's grip.

"Then you shall be silent, pet." Draco gripped a fistful of Harry's hair. "Your wand, if you please." Harry drew his wand from his pocket. "Surrender it to Master Paellax."

Harry handed the wand to Neville.

"Now then," Neville began, tucking Harry's wand into his own pocket. "It appears that we have some retribution to be meted out. And—" His voice was different than what Harry was accustomed to. It was cool, emotionless and crisp. "What _are_ you looking at?"

He glared at Harry and then cut his eyes at Draco.

"Are you _looking_ at Master Paellax?" Draco snatched Harry's hair painfully.

"Unh!" Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "I—no—"

"He's talking now," muttered Dean. "Again! Are you serious, Malfoy? Have you spoiled him already?" Draco scoffed as he gave Harry's hair another tug.

"When have you _ever_ known this one to do as he's told without _strong_ persuasion?"

"That _is_ a problem," said Dean, giving the leash in his hand a sharp tug. Seamus let out a soft gasp. "Clearly you need to put him on a _short_ lead for a while."

"Do you hear that, love?" Draco spoke menacingly in Harry's ear. "I'm not the only one who believes you to be obstinate and _mischievous._ " He gave Harry a shove and he stumbled forward a step, looking back at Draco. His partner's expression was menacing, but Harry detected a slight twitch in his lip and saw his hand move to his crotch. Harry licked his lips, his flesh heating up. He turned back and cast his eyes downward.

"Take off your clothes," said Neville. Harry immediately bent to unbuckle his boots. " _Slower._ Let the lads enjoy this."

Harry complied and toed off his boots. He slowly pulled his shirt up and over his head. It was an awkward feeling to have Neville present and clearly in charge of this encounter, and Harry's hands trembled as he fumbled with his belt. He drew his trousers and pants down, bending at the waist.

"God, Malfoy! I hope you realize just how lucky you are," said Dean. "I could look at that arse for the rest of my days! _"_

"Oh, believe me, I _know!_ " Draco replied enthusiastically.

Harry stepped out of his bottoms, goosebumps rising to his flesh as he stood naked in front of them.

"Aw, look! He blushes!" Neville exclaimed. "That's adorable! Now then," He pointed his wand. " _Stricta Pugnus!_ "

Harry's hands curled involuntarily into tight fists. He attempted to straighten his fingers, but they would not respond. He jerked his head up.

"What is—" he began.

"Oh, _come on!_ " Dean declared.

"For _fuck's sake, Potter!"_ Draco huffed. He slapped him. "I'm beginning to think you really like that _Langlock_ jinx."

"No, no," said Neville. "Be patient gents. He _is,_ technically, still a newbie. Here. Try this for starters. You know it's always much more useful in the long run." He held up a large ring with straps attached.

Draco took the gag from Neville.

"Open!" he commanded. Harry reluctantly complied, and Draco settled it in his mouth, buckling the straps tightly behind his head.

Harry slid his tongue around the large metal ring that held his jaw open. Saliva immediately dripped from his open mouth. He lifted his hand to wipe it away, but his locked fist could do little more than smear the spittle across his chin. He gave Draco a mutinous look. Draco rolled his eyes and reached out to remove his glasses, leaving him staring at a haze of shapes and shadows.

" _Corda Legata!_ " Neville pointed his wand at Harry. His arms were summarily pulled back and bound at the wrists and elbows, then pulled up until he was bent forward at the waist. He shuffled forward a step.

"Now, then," Draco grabbed Harry's hair and pulled his head up roughly. "You know, while we were at Spinner's End, I had some time to chat up Dean and Seamus a bit. Imagine my surprise to learn that you've had a _play date_ with them!" He let out a dramatic gasp. "And you _didn't_ tell me!" He let go of Harry's hair and gave his ass a sharp slap.

"Ah!" Harry exclaimed.

"Did you _really_ top your Sir after you arrested him?" Dean asked. Harry grunted in response. "Who knew you had it in you, Harry? And here you said power doesn't suit you."

" _I think…_ " Draco raked his nails down Harry's back. "You _owe_ Dean for helping you _realize_ how much you really like…" He swatted his ass again. Harry started, and the tension from the strappado position increased. "…being _in the life_ …" Draco yanked Harry's head up again. "Don't you? …just look at it…Merlin!"

Harry's gaze shifted to Dean, who now stood with his open fly, stroking his cock.

"It's practically a treat! No wonder you fucking Gryffindors have so much swagger!" Draco gestured to Dean, who stepped forward, giving Harry a hungry stare. "I'm offering you my most prized possession, Thomas. Treat it with care."

Dean handed over Seamus' leash to Draco, who tugged him over to a pair of twin club chairs where Neville had settled in to watch. He took the empty chair and lifted his feet to rest on Seamus' back as he knelt in front of him.

Dean held Harry by the throat, forcing him to lift his chin.

"Stick out your tongue," he commanded. Harry pushed his tongue out through the ring, his gaze up at Dean's hazy image. Now within a few inches of his face, Harry's breath hitched at the sight of the long, dark member hovering before him. Dean tapped the head of his prick against Harry's tongue. Harry closed his eyes. "Open your eyes!" Dean snapped. "Look at my cock! I know you can see it! Worship my fucking prick!"

Harry licked the tip of Dean's cock. He strained to take it in, but the other Gryffindor stepped back. Harry panted, grunting with the strain in his shoulders.

"Do you _really_ want it, Harry? Come and get it," he said.

Harry shuffled forward, the ropes pulling at his arms. He stretched painfully towards the fuzzy dark shape in front of him and stuck out his tongue, barely brushing the tip of Dean's cock.

"Unh!" He licked away a drop of pre-cum. Dean moved forward and pushed the head of his cock through the ring.

"Lick it!" Harry licked over the head, swirling his tongue around the warm flesh. "More?"

"Unh huh!" Harry panted, looking up at the blur that was Dean. His own cock was waking between his legs. Dean grabbed his hair and shoved his rod down Harry's throat. He swallowed and writhed around the huge, swollen member as it filled his mouth.

"Oh, my god! Ugggggghhhh!" Dean growled. He began to fuck Harry's face relentlessly. "Oh, fuck! Dammit, Malfoy, I'm so jealous you get this _all the time!_ "

Harry moaned around Dean's cock as he abused the back of his throat. His shoulders ached from the resistance and movement. His legs shook and his prick jutted upward, slapping his stomach.

"Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Dean exclaimed. "Seamus, my darling little bitch, won't you show Malfoy some appreciation for letting Daddy share his pet? Ohhhhh! Mmmmm!"

Draco grinned wickedly, placing his feet on the floor and slumping in his chair as Seamus rose up on his knees to face him. Draco grabbed his head and shoved his face against his crotch. Seamus nuzzled against the supple leather.

"Go on, then," the blond said. He rocked his hips forward and Seamus pulled away the codpiece attached to the front of the trousers, freeing his rigid erection. Seamus immediately closed his lips around it, cupping Draco's balls with one hand. "Oh, mmmmm!" Draco moaned.

The steel walls of the strong room reverberated with the sounds of Dean and Draco's moaning.

"Oh, Merlin! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ " Dean cried. He gripped Harry beneath the chin with one hand, his other still gripping his hair and pulled him all the way to his pubis. Harry swallowed and Dean shuddered with orgasm. "Ohhhhhhh! Ohhhhhh! Ohhhhhhh!"

Spots appeared before Harry's eyes and his knees shook visibly as Dean's hot spunk slid down his throat. He spluttered and gasped when he was finally released, choking on the stream of saliva in his mouth and throat. Dean carefully removed the gag and Harry coughed hoarsely, taking deep, rasping breaths. Neville watched the proceedings with interest before pushing himself to his feet and taking a riding crop from the shelf.

"There is still the matter of your sub's defiant behavior, Pravus." Neville tapped Harry's back with the crop.

Draco groaned and pushed Seamus away, getting to his feet. He moved to the center of the room and bent to look in Harry's face.

"Did you enjoy having Dean's massive rod down your throat, Potty?" Harry's eyes narrowed at Draco's use of his old school epithet. "What's the matter? Don't like that nickname do we?" Draco slapped him. "Too bad, _Potty!_ That's your fucking name tonight!" He slapped Harry again, harder.

"Fuck!" Harry spat.

"Shut it!" Draco slapped him once more. "You had Weaselby _arrest me!_ " Slap. "You made me take the perp walk through the catacombs!" Slap. "Then you took advantage of your position as Auror and kept me cuffed while you fucked me within earshot of _my mother!_ " He slapped Harry twice more. He stepped back and stared down at Harry while he stroked his cock.

"I guess you thought the owl would make up for that, and all would be forgiven, yes? Look at you, salivating after me. You wanna cum now, don't you, Potty? I should give up the _amazing_ blow job Finnegan was doing so you can get off?" Draco scoffed. Dean dragged Seamus over and handed Draco the leash once more. Seamus wrapped his fingers around Draco's shaft and began to stroke before he took his cock in once again. "This could be you, _Potty!_ This _should_ be you! Oh!" Draco rocked his hips forward.

Harry's cock ached as it bobbed against his belly. His shoulders burned. He stared balefully at Seamus and Draco.

" _Relashio,"_ said Neville. Harry fell to his knees as his bindings were released. He let out a groan and reached for his throbbing prick. Unfortunately, his fingers were still tightly curled into immovable fists, his hands useless. He pounded his fist on the floor in frustration.

"On your feet, love," said Neville as he and Dean hauled Harry to his feet. " _Ligare Eam. Sublevo._ "

Harry's wrists were bound above his head and he was lifted from the floor. Feet searching for purchase, the very tips of his toes barely made contact with the surface. Draco continued to moan and gasp as Seamus sucked on his cock, and Harry was turned to face them.

"Oh, yes! Fuck!" Draco exclaimed. "Does it turn you on to watch me skullfuck your mate, Potty?"

Neville tapped Harry's balls with the riding crop. Harry sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes.

"Open your eyes and watch Master Pravus," Neville directed. His tone was cool and detached. He moved the crop down the inside of Harry's thighs, each swat stinging a little more. Harry drew up his legs.

"Ah!"

Neville swatted his backside.

"Shit!" he swore.

"Oh, _honey!"_ Dean gave a tsk, and shook his head. " _Langlock!_ "

"Mmph!" Harry writhed with frustrated arousal, now unable to speak. Dean took his nipples between his fingers and gave them a tug, pinching hard. Harry let out a whimper, twisting and panting.

"Does Potty want to cum?" Draco drawled. "Oh!"

"Mm-hm! Mm-hm!" Harry nodded fervently.

" _Corporis Connatus!_ " Draco handed over the enchanted dildo to Dean.

"Oh, my word!" He stroked it appreciatively. Draco shuddered as the action with the replica prick sent a sensation back through him.

"Fuck, Dean!" he swore. Dean snickered and passed the dildo to Neville.

" _Resigno Apertus._ " Neville said, swatting Harry again. Harry grunted, his legs jerking. Neville teased his opening with the pulsing rod.

"Mm! Mm!" Harry bucked. Slowly, Neville pushed it into his ass, and Harry groaned with delight, closing his eyes.

" _Agere Vivit._ You may cum, beloved…" Draco held Seamus' head, moving in and out with agonizing slowness. The dildo did the same. Harry let out a keening moan. "…but _not_ before I do."

Harry moaned and bucked about, drawing up his legs, as the dildo moved in and out of his ass. Draco closed his eyes and let his head fall back as he gripped Seamus' hair and fucked his throat.

"Ohh, shit, Potty! Finnegan's throat is so fucking _hot!_ " Draco exclaimed. "Are you watching? Are you watching?"

Neville swatted his balls and Harry let out a muffled yelp.

"Eye's open, love." Harry opened his eyes, grunting and moaning as his ass was tortured. He was aching for release.

"Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Oh, Salazar! Oh, fuck! Yes! Yes! Yes!" Draco shuddered with release, staggering backward as he let go of Seamus' hair. The dildo slid out of Harry's ass and vanished. Draco stumbled over to Harry and took his dick in hand. "Did you cum, my beloved?" Harry shook his head vehemently. "No? Aw. Is my likkle Potty bitch pissed off?" Harry nodded eagerly. " _Really?_ " Draco slapped his dick.

"Mm!" Harry grunted. Draco licked the head of his cock. He twitched and moaned.

"Is this what you want? You want to shoot your load in Sir's mouth?"

"Mm-hm! Mm-hm!" Harry begged. Draco licked it again, sliding his mouth over the shaft. Harry moaned loudly, bucking his hips. Draco moved away.

"Oh, _Nemesis!_ The Boy-Who-Lived is _begging_ me to cum!" He lifted the Langlock jinx. "Say ' _please'!_ " He stroked Harry slowly.

"Oh! Please!" Harry panted. Draco stilled his hand.

"I don't know," he sneered. "Doesn't sound convincing enough." He wrapped an arm around Neville's waist and nipped his earlobe. "Maybe I should just let Longbottom torture you some more, while I suck his cock. Master Paellax hasn't had _any_ attention this evening. Poor thing's like a lost spare at Stoke on Trent."

"No! Please! Please! Draco!" Harry pleaded, bucking his hips and thrashing about. Draco whipped his head around to glare at Harry. He snatched the crop from Neville's hand.

"What…" He swatted Harry's nipple. "…did…you…call…me?" Draco struck him across the chest again and again, angry welts rising to his skin.

"Ah! Shit!" Harry cried.

"Shit? _Shit?_ Is that what you think I am?" Draco hit him again.

"No! No! Sir! No!" Harry screamed. "Please! Please! _Please!_ " he begged.

"Please, _what, Potty!_ " Draco grabbed his balls and squeezed.

"Ah! Ah! Fuck! Please, M-ma-master P-Pravus!" he stuttered.

"That's better. _Don't_ you ever forget it! Say it again!" Draco swatted his cock. Harry jerked his legs.

" _Please, Master Pravus! Please!"_ he screamed. Draco dropped the crop and wrapped his lips around Harry's cock, sucking fervently. "Oh! Oh! Ohhhh! Oh! Ohhh!"

"Ask your Sir if you can cum," said Neville.

"Please, Sir! May I cum! Please! Ohhh! Ohhh!" Harry begged as Draco swallowed his prick. " _Please!_ "

Draco touched the wand tucked into his pocket. _Furari Spiritus!_

Harry gasped as his breathing was suddenly cut off. He shuddered violently, his eyes rolling back in his head as he bucked and writhed. His cock pulsed as his orgasm rippled through him, spilling down his lover's throat. Draco moaned as he swallowed.

" _Finite Incantatem. Descendo. Aperto Carcere."_ He took Harry into his arms as he was lowered and his binding released. Harry shivered, wrapping his arms tightly about Draco's neck. Draco placed soft kisses along his neck. "You're so beautiful my love." He settled on the floor, cradling him in his arms as he continued to kiss and intone in his ear. "You did very well, darling. I love you, my prince!" he whispered.

"So!" Dean clapped his hands soundly. "Who's up for takeaway?"

* * *

The sky had begun to lighten when Draco and Harry returned to Number Twelve. They were startled to find Adrestia and Narcissa awaiting them when they apparated into the drawing room.

"Mother?" Draco immediately rushed to her side. "Is everything okay?"

"I—I remember!" she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"You mean…you remember what happened—what Father did?" He gripped her hands tightly.

Narcissa took her wand and touched it to her temple, drawing a silvery wisp away. Harry conjured a phial to collect the memory.

"Oh, Draco!" She threw her arms around her son and began to sob.

"There, there. Let me and Harry take care of it. We'll sort it. I promise." Draco held Narcissa in his arms for several minutes as she wept. Harry drew Adrestia aside.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "We were out, and having a nice time when suddenly, she insisted we come back. All she said was that she remembered, and she needed to see Draco."

"What was she doing before that?"

"Dancing, with some guy. He was standing with her before we left. He seemed concerned."

"Well, who knows what might have triggered the memory. That's not important right now. If it points us directly at Lucius, which I'm sure it will, that plus the wand should be enough to put Lucius away for good."

They turned back to Draco and Narcissa, who had begun to pull herself together. She dabbed at her eyes with a sniffle, and accepted the calming draught that Adrestia had mixed for her. Then Draco walked her upstairs. He returned a few minutes later, face pale and jaw set, as he slipped on his jacket.

"You're not leaving, Draco. We have him right where we want him. Use of an Unforgivable still carries a life sentence. It will be doubled with the charge of GBH."

"I don't care!" Draco growled. Harry grabbed him by the arms.

"If you confront him, he will only run, and you could end up seriously hurt or _worse_. If he's willing to hurt your mother to get what he wants, what do you think he'll do to you? Do you think he won't fight back if you attack him?"

"I don't _care,_ Harry!" Draco shrugged off his grip and turned to the floo.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Draco's wand flew from his pocket and into Harry's hand.

"Give it back!" He glared at Harry, stalking towards him.

"No." Harry stood his ground.

"Give me back my wand, Potter!" Draco snarled. He grabbed Harry by the throat.

"I said ' _no'!_ What about _me_ , Draco?" Draco's grip slackened, and Harry shoved him away. "If you kill him, you go to Azkaban, and all of this," he gestured around them. "All of this will be for naught! What was it for? Were you just using me? You said you _loved_ me, dammit!" Harry yelled. "Just when I thought I mattered to someone who didn't just see me as The-Boy-Who-Lived, it was all just another fucking lie!"

"Harry, I—" Draco began.

" _Save it!_ " Harry snapped. He threw Draco's wand at him. It hit him in the chest and fell to the floor. "Just go on! Do what you want! I'm _done!_ " He turned away to hide the tears that blurred his vision. "Here I was, actually ready to tell you that I love you too," he muttered.

"Harry—"

"I said _get out!_ " Harry cried. He slumped into a chair, snatching off his glasses, and buried his face in his hands.

"Harry, please…Look at me." Draco begged. "Harry, _please. Look…at…me!_ "

Harry felt a hand on his knee. He raised his head with a huff. Draco was kneeling in front of him, wand in hand again. He touched it to his temple and pulled away a long silvery wisp, grimacing as he did so. Draco conjured a crystal phial and dropped the shimmering memory into it. He stoppered it and took Harry's hand, and placed it into his palm, curling his fingers around it.

"Lucius Malfoy's confession." Draco took Harry's face in both of his hands. "Everything I have said to you is the truth. I love you, Harry Potter. You heard my mother. I've loved you since the moment I first laid eyes on you." He pressed his lips to Harry's.


	32. Shared Secrets

"Harry!" Hermione launched herself out of the lift and into Harry's arms as the other witches and wizards waiting for the lifts swarmed around them. He stumbled backwards and grimaced with dismay as the gilded grates slid closed, leaving him captive to his best friend and what he knew would be her impending interrogation.

"Hermione. Good to see you." He hugged her and extricated himself from her grip, wincing slightly, as he still felt sore from the previous night's activities.

"Where have you been? Ron told me that you'd taken a leave of absence from the DMLE. Why?" She linked her arm with his, dragging him towards the canteen.

"Well, erm, I just needed a little time away to get my head together," he replied.

They approached the counter, where Hermione ordered tea and he requested coffee and a muffin. They found a table and she gave him a pointed look as he gingerly took his seat, studiously suppressing the urge to wince.

"Rough night?" she asked. He shrugged, stirring sugar into his coffee. "You look tired? Nightmares again?"

"No. I haven't had any for quite a while actually. Guess I'm just not getting enough sleep these days, that's all."

"Ah." She smirked as she stirred cream into her tea. "When do we get to meet him?"

"What?" Harry spluttered. He grabbed a napkin, catching the coffee that dribbled down his chin before it could drip onto his fresh robes. She rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, Harry. You know Ginny and I chat. Is it someone from school? Justin Finch-Fletchley? No, Oliver Wood!" She gasped. "You're seeing Oliver Wood aren't you!"

"Merlin, Hermione! Keep your voice down!" Harry hissed. "You know the canteen is always crawling with reporters from The Prophet! And, no, I'm _not_ seeing Oliver."

"Well, who is it then? Ginny seemed positive there's someone, and when I asked Ron, he was awfully cagey about it all."

"I asked him not to tell you." Hermione took on an indignant expression. "I'm sorry. It's no offense, honestly. I'm just—I'm not ready yet, Hermione. I'm just tired of everyone thinking that it's okay to share their opinion about what I should be doing with my life. I'm sick of apologizing because I choose to do what I want instead of what's expected of me. Just once, I'd like my private life to stay private for a little while. I couldn't even visit Ginny in the hospital without reporters hounding me and speculating on the status of our relationship. Molly's still convinced that Ginny and I will get back together. She'll be devastated when she finds out." He pulled his muffin apart.

Hermione grimaced and sipped her tea before she spoke again.

"Are you happy, Harry? I mean, does he make you happy—does he love you?"

"He _definitely_ loves me, Hermione."

"You don't love _him?_ " she asked.

" _Don't_ start analyzing this, 'Mione. It's new—all of this. I'm just figuring out my feelings, not just for him, but towards blokes. I care for him. I really do, and it's—it's growing." He gave her a tentative smile. Hermione reached across the table and took his hand.

"So you're certain about this. It's not some rebound thing." She looked him squarely in the eye.

"I'm certain, Hermione. I didn't expect it, but now that it's happening, I don't think I can imagine my life without him."

"Well, whoever he is, he's certainly had an effect on you," she said, noting his appearance. Harry smoothed a hand over his robes

Draco had refused to allow him out of the house in his usual slightly rumpled shirt and trousers, with equally unkempt Auror robes.

"Just because your hair is hopeless doesn't mean that your attire must be," he'd said. He'd insisted that Kreacher starch and iron everything and made Harry change.

"Oh, yeah, I guess. Listen, Hermione. I've been meaning to thank you for your help with Snape's estate."

"So everything worked out, then? Although, I could jinx you for giving Ronald those comics. He actually wants to _frame_ them! He says when we get our own place, he wants to put them on the wall! And people say _I'm_ a nerd!" she rolled her eyes. "It just seems so out of character for Snape, doesn't it?"

"I'll bet that was the one thing he had to look forward to," said Harry. "They didn't have much. It's probably why he kept buying them. The newer ones didn't even look as though he'd read them."

"It's so tragic." Hermione freshened her tea. "So, what will you do with the house?" she asked.

"I dunno. There's still quite a lot to sort through. You wouldn't believe all of the books he owned. The entire neighborhood is being redeveloped. All of the neighbors are renovating. Can you believe that people there knew him— _and_ Mum?"

"Really?"

"Well, their parents knew Mum, but there were a few who knew Snape. Of course they said he mostly kept to himself when he was around."

"Wow!"

* * *

The friends chatted a bit more, before Harry insisted that he had to go. He nervously patted the phials in his pocket. He needed to enter them into evidence before he could request a warrant for Lucius' arrest. It was a matter he was anxious to have over and done with as quickly as possible. Lucius was bound to turn up again soon, especially once he discovered that Narcissa was no longer accessible to him. When he arrived in the chamber where memories were stored, he found Kingsley Shacklebolt exiting one of the pensieve viewing rooms.

"Harry! Good to have you back," he said, extending a hand.

"Minister, I didn't expect to find you down here. Still pining for your Auror days?" Harry shook his hand.

"Every now and then, risking my life seems easier than being head of the government." Kingsley chuckled. "Do you have a moment to spare?"

"Erm, well I need to log in these memories first. Then I'm at your disposal."

"Alright then. I'll see you in my office when you're done."

Harry gave him a nod and proceeded to the clerk's desk to log in the memories. He carefully placed each phial into the box that the clerk provided him and sealed it with his wand. The clerk took his paperwork and made a duplicate, handing it over to him. Harry tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes and made his way to the Minister's office. His secretary admitted him at once, despite a row of witches and wizards who sat in the reception area waiting for an audience with the Minister of Magic. Harry studiously avoided the spiteful and exasperated gazes that turned his way as he strode past, pushing open the ornately carved double doors.

"Tea?" Kingsley offered.

"No, thank you."

"Well, then. I'll get right to business. Gawain Robards is planning to retire in the fall. Your name is at the top of the list to head the Auror department."

"I've only been in the department a year, Minister," Harry replied. "I'm certain that there are other qualified Aurors with seniority who would gladly appreciate the promotion."

"Harry, you know that we lost many of our best and brightest to the war. Between deaths, permanently incapacitating injuries, and those who simply decided that their families were too important for them to continue risking their lives, our numbers have been seriously depleted. Frankly, there's also a bit of distrust among the ranks, particularly regarding some of the old guard Aurors.

When it comes to brass tacks, there are some who aren't certain that we've weeded out all of the bad apples who surfaced with Riddle. Not that they are necessarily dark, but Crouch did a number on the department as a whole when he authorized the use of Unforgivables and other extreme methods of interrogation. I want someone in the position with battle hardened experience, but also a level head and the ability to problem solve without immediately resorting to harsh and questionable tactics."

"May I speak freely?" Harry asked.

"Please do."

"Kingsley, I just don't know if I'm cut out for it. For one, I think I'd miss being on the front lines. Why? I have no idea, but there's something about tracking the clues and the evidence—closing a case—that I would no longer get from sitting behind a desk as a tactician and administrator. The other thing is that, at the same time, I just don't know if being an Auror is it for me anymore. I've spent my entire life fighting for it—for survival—the fate of the entire wizarding world depending on it. Now…now, I just want to _live_."

"And you think the way to do that is to antagonize Lucius Malfoy?" Kingsley sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

"You sound like Cornelius Fudge," Harry replied, his expression turning dark.

"I think you know me better than that, Harry. I'm simply curious as to what has brought this all about. How exactly did you manage to locate Draco in the first place? I thought he'd gone to ground."

"Well, it was all quite by accident really. Call it a series of seemingly unrelated events which fell into place and there he was." Harry shrugged.

"I see. And how does all of this add up to you arresting Draco Malfoy? Is there something I should know?"

"You seem to have taken a particular interest in this investigation," said Harry. "Is there something _I_ should know?"

"Let's not do this, Harry. I've always been straight with you, and I've always trusted you. I simply want to know if Malfoy is engaged in something that could be considered a matter of greater concern."

Harry let out a long sigh.

"I don't know. Draco hasn't said. I think he knows, but he's hoping that he's wrong."

"Then what is all this?" Kingsley asked.

"Lucius Imperioused Narcissa Malfoy in order to get her to drink the Emerald Potion."

"The what?" Kingsley sat up, a bemused expression on his face.

"I—Kingsley, the only people alive now who know about the potion, besides me, are Hermione and Ron, and Lucius and Draco—well, also Ernie MacMillan."

Kingsley listened attentively, but said nothing.

"I trust your office has the highest privacy protections?"

"Of course."

"Do you know what Hermione and Ron and I were doing before we returned to Hogwarts for the final battle?"

"Only that you were attempting to finish what Dumbledore had begun, searching for a way to stop Riddle," the minister replied.

"We were searching for horcruxes, Kingsley." Harry held his breath and watched as Kingsley's jaw dropped, a horrified expression crossing his face. He slowly sank back into his chair once more, staring incredulously at Harry.

"You mean—"

"Tom Riddle split his soul over and over. He even stole artefacts from the founders of Hogwarts to contain them, and then he hid them—Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem. He placed one into his diary, and another into his snake Nagini. There was also one in a ring that belonged to his grandfather. He created the Drink of Despair, or the Emerald Potion to protect the locket in the place where he'd hidden it. Sirius' brother, Regulus discovered the hiding place and stole the locket, but he died after drinking the potion. Dumbledore suffered horrific pain and hallucinations when he drank it. We both nearly died when I tried to save him."

"By Merlin!" Kingsley exclaimed. "Unbelievable— _six_ horcruxes!"

"Seven," said Harry.

"Seven? But you said—"

"There were two flaws in Riddle's plan. He'd never won the Elder Wand. He thought it belonged to Snape because he'd killed Dumbledore, but the wand had already been taken by someone else, someone that I'd defeated before Riddle and I dueled."

"Godric's sword!" Kingsley exclaimed.

"The second flaw was that he'd unknowingly created that seventh horcrux on the night he murdered my parents. Everyone knows that the killing curse backfired when he tried to kill me, and that's how I became the Boy-Who-Lived. However, the rent piece of his soul embedded itself inside… _me_." Kingsley gasped. Harry continued. "Tom Riddle murdered me in the Dark Forest that night, but his spell backfired again. It destroyed the horcrux, which allowed me to come back. The Elder wand would never turn against its master."

"My god, Harry!"

" _No one_ can know what I've told you, Kingsley. Ron and Hermione are the only ones who know about the horcruxes."

"But everyone who was in the Great Hall and saw you defeat Riddle knows that you won the Elder Wand."

"Has anyone seen me with that wand since that day?" Harry removed his holly and phoenix-feather wand from his pocket."

"I see. Well, you know that your secret is safe with me, Harry. I can only imagine where Malfoy acquired the potion, but why use it on his own wife? I've always been under the impression that he was devoted to Narcissa."

Harry snorted. "Spoken like a confirmed pureblood bachelor. What the public perceived, and what actually happened behind closed doors between the Malfoys are entirely different matters, as I've come to learn. Lucius hoped to draw Draco out of hiding so that he could use him to obtain some sort of artefact. I have no doubt that it is dark or forbidden."

"I see. However, I understand that Lucius was here raising a stink about Draco being arrested. Why is it that neither of them is now in custody?"

"Actually, Draco _is_ in custody. He's just not in the catacombs. He's a material witness to the crime, and it's safer if no one knows where he is. You know what they say about the Malfoys."

"You'll never find their wand at the scene of the crime," said Kingsley.

"I believe I have all of the evidence that I need to request a warrant. Now it's just a matter of preventing him from slipping away."

"Am I to assume you have a plan?"

"Plans have a way of going pear-shaped for me, but I have a few aces up my sleeve." Harry smiled with satisfaction.


	33. For Master Paellax

Adrestia held her head back, turning her face into the spray of the shower. She ran her fingers over her hair and rinsed the shampoo from it. The foamy suds slid over her smooth, dark flesh, and she chased them with delicate hands, raking her fingers through her hair and sliding them down her neck and over her chest. Her fingertips bumped over her pert nipples and she closed her eyes, pinching one and slipping the other hand down her torso to her hairless pubis. She bit her lip and pinched her clit before rubbing circles over it with her hand and letting out a soft moan.

Suddenly, the curtain was snatched open, and she spun around. Draco stood there, his face devoid of expression.

"Sir?" She gave him a questioning look. "Care to join me?" she smiled.

"Out." His voice was cold, and she shivered, despite the warm water pelting her body. Adrestia stepped out of the shower. He flicked his wand and shut off the water before striding back into the bedroom. She followed him. He pointed to the floor and she knelt, her forehead on the floor. Her bare skin still wet, she shivered slightly in the cooler bedroom. Draco cast a drying spell and a warming spell, and she sighed gratefully.

"Thank you, sir."

"Master Paellax has requested that you be sent to him," he said. She looked up at Draco.

"Sent, sir?" He arched a brow and she immediately lowered her head once more.

He pointed his wand at her.

* * *

Neville stretched and rolled on his side as he lay in the massive bed at his home in Prewett Lane. He raised himself on one elbow and stared down into Hannah's eyes. He'd had a crush on the blonde Hufflepuff since their first year in school, but was too insecure to ever approach her. It wasn't until they both joined Dumbledore's Army that they finally became closely acquainted with one another. Then, when Hannah returned to Hogwarts for their seventh year, following her mother's murder, she'd found comfort in conversations with the Gryffindor as they became part of the resistance against Death Eater occupation of the school. Still, it wasn't until the war had ended that they sought a romantic relationship.

Neville had returned from his travels abroad a changed man. He discovered her working in the Leaky Cauldron and began to frequent the pub, stopping in for a pint nearly every evening. He would sit at the bar and chat with her until long after the last patron had left, nursing his singular beer, until finally he asked her to join him for dinner. He was surprised and delighted to learn that she shared his penchant for the lifestyle, but had never tried it. Hannah was an eager pupil and an ardent lover and it wasn't long before he had collared her. She smiled up at him as he traced his fingers down her side, causing goosebumps to prickle her flesh.

"You really are beautiful," he said. She blushed. There was a knock at the door. He pulled up the duvet to cover them.

"Enter!" he looked toward the door just as his house-elf Kippy stepped into the room and gave a curtsy.

"Master Longbottom, the package has arrived, sir." She squeaked.

"Excellent! Place it in the attic."

"Right away, sir!" The elf withdrew and Neville turned his attention back to Hannah, giving her a smile. She returned it, her eyes twinkling.

"You've been so patient, my love. I wish you'd been able to come to America with me. I can't wait to have you at The Horned Serpent, but I understand how much it's meant for you to take over the pub. You've worked hard, but I think the changes are coming along quite nicely. I have a little surprise for you." He kissed her nose. Hannah's smile widened. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sir."

Neville tapped his wand and the simple necklace she wore transformed into a heavy collar made up of large links of goblin-made silver.

"You may leave the bed."

Hannah pushed back the covers and climbed out of bed, kneeling on all fours in the center of the floor. Neville retrieved a lead from his bureau and looped it around the bedpost before he attached it to the chain around her neck. He left her there while he showered and dressed. A few minutes later, he led her out of the master suite of the grand house and up to the fourth floor where he opened a door and led her up a narrow flight of stairs and into the attic where a large black box sat in the center of the room.

"Is this for me, Sir?" Hannah asked. She chanced a look up at Neville. He nodded, and released her collar, urging her forward. She crossed the room and examined the box. The sides were smooth and seamless and she could see no way to open it. Hannah tapped on the top of the box. She started when she heard a muffled noise from within, and looked up at Neville. "What's inside?"

Neville pointed his wand.

" _Patefacio._ "

Adrestia took several rasping breaths as the top of the box disappeared and the sides fell away. She was held in a stringent tie—ankles bound to her thighs, arms behind her back, wrists to her ankles, neck to her knees. A rope gag prevented her from speaking and a blindfold covered her eyes. Hannah crept closer to look at her.

"Is this her? Your American?" she asked.

"Indeed. I thought it high time my pets were face to face."

Hannah reached out and wiped away the thin thread of saliva that fell from Adrestia's lips. The other witch flinched and she drew back abruptly. Hannah looked anxiously at Neville.

"I—may I touch?"

"Of course, my darling."

Adrestia tugged uselessly at her bonds. She was startled when Draco bound her, and completely stunned when he sealed the box around her. By the time Neville finally laid it open, she was beginning to feel lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. She felt a soft, delicate hand slide down her arm and then caress her ass.

Neville had told her about his Hannah. She knew that they'd been a thing since just before they left Hogwarts, but he'd never brought her to America, and when Adrestia had come to England before, he hadn't introduced them. She wished that she wasn't blindfolded. She was curious to see what the other witch looked like in person. Her voice was soft, and her gentle hands made Adrestia wonder if she was as shy as she sounded.

" _Emancipare."_

"Oh!" Adrestia slumped ungracefully when her bindings suddenly vanished. She assumed a face down position. Her knees still tucked under her chest, she placed her forehead on the floor and stretched her arms out in front of her.

"You may kneel, Tia, my love. Look at Hannah; both of you face one another."

The two witches knelt facing one another—light and dark in the same space. Adrestia glanced up through her lashes to look at Hannah. She was a slender young woman, almost lean, with a graceful neck and long, blonde hair. Though they were similar in size, Hannah did not have Adrestia's curvaceous figure. The English witch's shape was more proportional. Her breasts, though not full and round like Adrestias, were perky and perfectly shaped. Hannah's face was gentle with a rosy complexion that made her look as if she was just a bit flustered. She appeared to Adrestia, as she knelt with her hands perfectly placed, as if she might have a naturally submissive personality.

"Day and night, justice and mercy face to face. By Merlin, you are both so beautiful!" Neville exclaimed. "I almost don't know where to begin!" He conjured a deep, comfortable chair that resembled a throne and took a seat. "I think I should like to watch you," he said. "Hannah, my darling, give our Adrestia a kiss."

Hannah leaned forward tentatively and brushed her lips over Adrestia's. At this, Adrestia responded eagerly, opening her mouth and drawing Hannah closer. The English witch sighed, placing a hand on Adrestia's arm and soon they were pressed together, kissing hungrily. Neville watched breathlessly, his hand on his crotch as he slumped in the chair.

"Oh, yes! I am pleased that my pets are so eager to know one another," he murmured. "You may touch," he said.

Adrestia and Hannah explored one another, hands gliding over skin, palming breasts and scraping fingernails over backsides. Adrestia kissed a trail from Hannah's shoulder to her earlobe, sucking on the sensitive flesh behind her jaw until it was bright pink. Hannah closed her eyes and moaned in response. Adrestia pulled her in and Hannah straddled her lap, angling her head to expose her neck even more. She palmed Adrestia's ample bosom. Neville licked his lips and freed his pulsing erection from his pants, stroking it as he watched the pair making out. He stood, striding across the dimly lit room, and grabbed them both by the hair, pulling them apart.

"I think it's time to thank Master for giving you both this gift, do you not agree?" he pushed them both against his cock and they began to worship it, licking and sucking along the shaft. "Yeeesss! Oh, fuck! Yes!" He rocked back and forth between them, his prick sliding between each set of lips on either side. "How to fuck both my pretties at the same time? Mmmm!"

Neville stepped back, releasing their hair.

" _Corporis Connatus Geminus!_ " He moved his wand over his midsection. A double-headed dildo replica of his own penis appeared in his hand. Hannah gasped, and Adrestia grinned.

"Oh, my word!"

Neville held it between them, "Open!" he commanded. They complied, each taking an end. "Good girls! Come on, then. Get it good and slick!" he took their hair once again, pushing them together until they found a rhythm.

" _Agere Vivit!_ Oh! Yes!" he shuddered with the sensation that reflected from the phallic replica. "Oh! _Instigosempra!_ "

Hannah and Adrestia moaned and whimpered as their clits came to life.

"Oh! Oh! Rub each other. I want to see who's wetter," he said.

"Mmmm!" Adrestia moaned.

"Unnh!" Hannah whimpered.

"Fuck!" Neville swore. He stroked his prick. "You want it, don't you? Slutty little bitches!"

"Mm hmm! Mm hm!" they murmured around the dildo.

"Take it out." He took the dildo and separated them, first pushing it into Adrestia's warm, dripping cunt. She let out a wail.

"Oh, yes! Thank you sir!" she exclaimed.

"Hold it. Don't let it come out," he ordered. Adrestia reached down and began to fuck herself with it. Neville flicked his wand. " _Crucio Vexo!"_ She yelped. "I didn't say you could fuck yet. I said _hold it!_ "

Adrestia whimpered, but stilled her hand.

"Come on, love." He gestured to Hannah. "Climb on it." Hannah straddled Adrestia once again, sliding herself down on the other end of the phallus with a moan. Neville let out a low groan.

"Ohhh, shit!" he gripped his cock. "Oh! Shit! Fuck it! Fuck it good!" he said.

The two began to rock their hips, clinging to one another as they moved in concert. Hannah kissed Adrestia, wrapping her arms about her neck, while the younger woman grabbed her ass.

" _Semper Tactus!_ " Neville declared, one hand tightly gripping his cock, his feet planted wide as he stroked it. The two women discovered they were unable to separate one another or pull away from their kiss.

"Mm!"

"Unh!"

Neville stroked faster, and the witches panted, their whimpers and moans lost to one another's throats.

"Fuck! Oh, yes! Oh, my darlings! Oh! Oh! Shit!" He shuddered, his cock pulsing in hand. "Sonofa—oh, Merlin! Ohhhhh! Ohhhhh! Ohhhh!" he moaned, spurting his load, hot cum spattering their faces.

Neville staggered back to his chair and muttered the general counterspell. Hannah and Adrestia slumped to the floor breathlessly as the dildo vanished. Neville gazed down at them with sleepy satisfaction.

"Who's giving Daddy a bath?"


	34. Out Here on My Own

Narcissa gazed out of the window of the master bedroom at the muggles going about their business on the street below. A group of teens wearing school uniforms teased one another, their satchels bouncing along as they tagged each other and jogged about. She could hear their laughter as they continued up the street. On the opposite side of the square, she watched a mother settle her infant in a pram and set off for the corner, where she met another mother and child. They weren't much different from wizards, and they seemed perfectly content without magic. She watched a couple step into a cab and ride off. Narcissa wondered what it would be like to ride in an automobile.

"Draco!" She left the window and went into the hallway, calling her son's name. "Draco!"

"Master Draco is not here, Madame." Kreacher appeared on the landing. "Is there something that Kreacher can do for Mistress Narcissa?"

"Erm, no Kreacher. Do you know where Draco has gone?"

"No, Mistress. He only said that he would return before Master Harry came home for the day."

"Oh. Where is the girl?" she asked.

"She is out too, Mistress. Master Draco sent her on an errand."

"I see." Narcissa heaved a sigh. Kreacher watched her expectantly. "Alright then." She turned back to the room and closed the door, biting her lip. Narcissa sat down at the vanity and gazed at herself in the large oval mirror. The silver was tarnishing slightly, giving her image a bit of a sepia tone. She sighed and looked over her shoulder at the window. "Maybe if I—" she murmured to herself. "No, I wouldn't even know what's appropriate." She looked back to the mirror and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Just _do_ it, Cissy! Who's going to know?" Narcissa sighed and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and waved her wand.

* * *

A few minutes later, Narcissa found herself walking along the sidewalk at Grimmauld Place. She wore the glamour that she'd taken on the previous evening when she and Adrestia had gone out, but this time she wore a simple cashmere jumper and paddock boots with her jeans. She recalled admiring the outfit on a young lady they passed on Charing Cross Road, and was delighted to see that the look suited her well.

Narcissa tried not to look too out of place as she strolled up the avenue, eventually coming across a newsstand. She stopped to browse the papers and magazines. The first thing that struck her was how none of the images on the periodicals were moving. Next, was the sheer number of different newspapers there were. She only gave them little more than a passing glance, knowing so little of muggle government or activities. Her eyes were drawn to the glossy fashion magazines, and she picked one up. It was titled _Vogue._ She was taken by the colorful images and the pages and pages of fashion.

"I'll take this one, please," she said.

"That'll be three pound-eighty-six," the clerk replied. It was then that she realized she didn't have any muggle money.

"Didn't I already pay you?" She slipped her hand into her purse, touching her wand. _Confundo!_ The clerk gave her a slightly startled look.

"Oh! Of course, I—yes, you did." He still appeared confused, and shook his head. Narcissa turned to go.

"Pardon me," said a full-bodied voice behind her. She froze, turning slowly. The sandy-haired man holding a newspaper smiled at her as he dropped a few coins into the clerk's hand. "Didn't we meet the other night?"

"I, erm—" Narcissa narrowed her eyes. The man did look familiar. But how could she know him. She didn't know _any_ muggles except—

"You thought that the absinthe would make me hallucinate," he said. Recognition dawned upon Narcissa then. This was the man she'd danced with at the nightclub. Under the mid-morning sun, he was much more attractive than he appeared to be with neon strobe lights coloring his features.

"Yes! Yes, of course!" she replied. "How do you do?"

"I am fine, thank you. Are you feeling better? You seemed a bit out of sorts last night. I feared that perhaps someone had tainted your drink."

"Oh, yes, I'm much better, thank you. I believe I'd simply eaten something that didn't agree with me, that is all."

"Ah, yes. I certainly understand. I am glad to know it wasn't anything serious. I'm Preston, by the way, Preston Walcott." He extended his hand.

"Narcissa Malfoy," she said. She eyed him nervously, but he seemed to show no recognition of the name.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Narcissa. Erm, if you have a moment, perhaps I could buy you a cup of coffee? There's a Starbucks not too far away." He pointed over his shoulder.

Narcissa assumed that this Starbucks place was a café or coffeehouse. She vacillated a moment. What would Draco say to her having coffee with a man she didn't know? Well, she was an adult, and it wasn't as if he didn't know that her marriage to Lucius was for all intents and purposes done and over.

"Of course, if you have some other commitment, I certainly understand," Preston said.

"Yes! I mean, no—yes, I'd be delighted. Lead the way," she smiled.

* * *

They walked a few blocks to the coffeehouse where she requested an espresso and Preston ordered something called a Grande Skinny Mocha with extra foam. She gripped the paper cup with both hands as they took a seat, and surreptitiously eyed Preston for clues as to how to sip the coffee from the strange container. She noted the small opening in the lid from which he sipped, and did the same. The espresso was not quite the same as what she was accustomed to drinking on their trips to Italy, but it was passable.

"So, do you live around here?" he asked.

"Oh, no," she shook her head. "I'm just staying with my son and his—erm—companion for a short while. My—my husband and I recently separated."

"Oh, gee. I didn't mean to pry. However, I suppose it is good that your son and his boyfriend are there for you," he said.

"How did you know that—"

"Your terminology rather gave that away."

"Oh, well, yes. I suppose so." She took a sip of her coffee.

"I imagine it's awkward being in your son's home right now. Was it difficult? Learning of your son's sexuality? I mean—if you don't mind me asking."

"No, not at all—well, I suppose I have been aware of it for some time, although he only told me very recently. I do admit that I wasn't very fond of the young man initially. He and Draco, that's my son, attended school together. Theirs was quite a contentious relationship at first. To be honest, I'm surprised that they ended up in a relationship at all, their backgrounds being so vastly different."

"I understand. My wife and I had something of a similar situation."

"Oh, you're married?"

"Widowed. Talaitha died in the autumn of 1996—the erm, bridge collapse. Perhaps you—"

"Oh, yes! I—I do remember. It was such a tragedy." Narcissa looked away. She knew precisely who was to blame for destroying the bridge. The perpetrators had plotted the horrific event while sitting in her own library. She cleared her throat and sipped her espresso. The coffee burned her throat.

"Yes, well." He pursed his lips a moment. "Morwenna and I are coping. That's my daughter."

"Oh. Goodness, it must be a challenge for a girl to lose her mother! Is she quite young?" Narcissa asked. She bit the inside of her cheek. Despite her feelings about it, the thought of the way in which their actions had impacted others had hardly crossed her mind at the time. Now, here she was sitting across from someone whose family had been torn apart because of the Death Eaters and their beliefs.

"She'll be eleven at the end of May," he replied. "Talaitha and I waited for quite some time to have children. Yes, it was very difficult for her—for us both in the beginning, but she's such a bright and precocious girl. Fortunately, I have the financial means which have allowed me to leave my firm and focus my attention upon her full-time. She reminds me of Talaitha in so many ways. Of course she looks like her mother, but she also has this uncanny knack of just affecting everything around her. She can almost anticipate what you will say and do. Our favorite activities are cooking and gardening together. I'll ask her for some ingredient and it's in her hand almost immediately, even from across the room, it seems like she never even moved!" he chuckled. Narcissa arched a brow.

"Really?"

"Oh, yes! Once, out in the garden, we had some lilies that just didn't seem to want to grow. They were just wilted, and I was about to pull them up, but my 'Wenna insisted that they just needed a little hug. She ran her fingers over the flower petals and they perked right up!" he exclaimed. "If I didn't know better, I'd _swear_ it was magic! I've been researching nearly every book I can find on lilies to discover if they respond to a certain type of touch. I've never seen anything like it."

Narcissa took a long drink of her coffee to cover her nervousness. If what Preston was describing was indeed true, he would soon find out more about his daughter than he ever wanted to know.

"Goodness me. I'm just prattling on. I'm sure you aren't interested in my mundane stay-at-home dad lifestyle."

"No, not at all! Please, do go on. I don't think I know of any men who do such a thing. Of course, my world has been rather cloistered for many years." She blushed, looking down at her cup.

"I did get the impression that you are not accustomed to city life."

"You would be correct. We've lived at our manor in Wiltshire since we married and I had little reason to visit the city often. I'm not certain where I will go from here," Narcissa lifted her chin as she spoke. "But I _will_ land on my feet. It has been a difficult time for our family as well. My sister died, as did my son's godfather."

"Goodness! I suppose we would all do well to celebrate our days while we have them, and remember that no one is promised tomorrow. That's been my motto of late. The times I spent with Talaitha were some of the happiest of my life. It's important to me to make Morwenna's childhood as memorable as possible, in spite of everything." He smiled.

"I think that is a good attitude to take. I am sure that if I had it to do over, there are so very many things I would have done differently with Draco. We spoiled him, and allowed him to make some foolish choices. Fortunately, the fates, I believe, are smiling down upon him. Since he's come into his own, he's done remarkably well for himself. He has learned from his mistakes and has determined to become a better person in the long run. I don't think he'd have managed to change Harry's mind about him if he hadn't."

"Different backgrounds and all that, right?" Preston nodded.

"Yes. You mentioned the same with you and your wife?" she asked.

"Yes, yes. My erm—my father held a seat on of the House of Lords. I grew up in Kensington, over on The Boltons. Attended Eton and studied economics at Cambridge.

Talaitha was a very different sort of woman. She too lived out in the country—the coast actually. I met her while on holiday in Cornwall one summer. Seventeen and already living on her own! She had this adorable little cottage on the outskirts of Falmouth, overlooking the water. There was no electricity and no telephone, and she was so content about it all! Even her stove was heated with wood! My parents insisted that she was a gypsy. In their eyes, she didn't have the _right sort of background._ They didn't want me associating with her at all, but I thought she was just _fascinating!_ She even kept an owl as a pet! She was rather pagan, with her special herbs and potions—which were remarkably useful!

When I was completing my firsts, I was unbelievably stressed out. We'd just gotten married and were living in this _pitiful_ little flat in King's Cross, _much_ to my parents' chagrin, and I was working nights, pulling pints to pay our bills. I didn't want to use my trust fund to support us. I nearly had a breakdown, certain that I would fail all of my courses. I declared that I was just going to quit school and become a cleaner! Well, Talaitha mixed up this little concoction and I simply felt as if all my cares were gone. I asked her how she did it. She just giggled and said 'I'm a witch, silly!'"

Narcissa choked on her coffee and pressed her hand to her chest. She managed to cover her shock by laughing as Preston was doing.

"I know! It's just the funniest thing! Of course, I'm certain that the backrub she also gave me had more to do with calming me down." Preston smiled wistfully. "Those quirky little things are what I think I miss most. Those are the stories I like to tell Morwenna."

"She seems to have been a singularly gifted wi—erm—woman," Narcissa replied.

"She was. Honestly. Although I do still miss her, I feel enriched by the time that we had together, and blessed that I still have Morwenna to carry her legacy." Preston played with the cardboard sleeve around his coffee cup. "Blimey, I've prattled on again! I do hope I haven't bored you. This making conversation-thing with someone who doesn't have a gaggle of giggling girls running about in the background just seems so new to me. Most of my social circle these days consists of play-dates and covered dish dinners with other parents. Do forgive me."

"Oh, it's perfectly alright. I've not had much in the way of lively conversation lately." Narcissa waved her hand dismissively. "It seems friends become few and far between when one's social status changes."

"I can imagine. Such was the same in the first months after Talaitha passed. No one knew what to say, and I think I just wanted to be alone. Without Morwenna to think of, I don't know if I would have made it. To be perfectly honest, last night was my first time ever venturing out to a discotheque. I don't know if that was the right choice. I felt like an old man trying to relive my glory days."

"I know what you mean. I was most uncomfortable myself. I don't even know how to dance—well, not like that." Narcissa blushed. Preston smiled.

"I think I'll stick to dark, intimate bars with jazz pianists."

"That sounds interesting," she said.

"You've never been?"

"I'm afraid not. My husband much preferred lavish banquets at home." It wasn't a lie, although Narcissa had no idea what jazz was. She assumed it had something to do with music.

"Well, then, perhaps you and I might visit one together sometime." Now it was Preston's turn to blush. "I'm sorry. I'm being forward. Erm, maybe we could get together for coffee again soon?"

"I'd like that."

"Would it be too much to ask if I might have your phone number?" he asked.

"Oh, I—it's silly, but honestly, I don't know what it is. The boys have only recently taken residence together at the same time that I moved out of my home. I never thought to ask." She shrugged helplessly, hoping that Preston would believe her. She didn't know if Harry had a phone or not. It didn't much matter, because she had no idea how to use one.

"Well, how about I give you my number? When you find out, ring me up." He took a napkin and drew a pen from his pocket to write with. "The second is my mobile number. Feel free to call me any time." He slid the napkin across the table.

"Okay." Narcissa folded the napkin, smiling like she hadn't done in a long while.


	35. Labyrinth

Draco looked up and down the street to make sure that no one was watching before he drew his wand and pointed it at the door.

" _Alohamora_." He heard the lock click, and he turned the knob to enter. He supposed that he could have simply apparated into the house, as any wards that Snape had set were broken when he died. Given that no one in the area was aware of their magic, and almost no one magical knew that they now owned the place, Harry had not yet set any around the tiny row house.

Once inside, he locked the door and set his rucksack on the kitchen floor to open it. Draco reached down into the bag up to his shoulder, and began to pull out cans of paint, rollers and brushes and drop cloths. He flicked his wand, and the cans containing the different colors that he'd selected were sent to their appropriate rooms. He spread a cloth over the floor and surfaces of the kitchen that he wanted to protect and scratched his chin as he looked around.

Draco had always loved to read, and since entering the muggle world after the war, he'd spent a great deal of time reading muggle books and magazines. Some of his favorites were the do-it-yourself publications which taught muggles everything from making candles to building a house. While he hardly thought he'd find himself building a house from the ground up any time soon, Draco had decided that showing his willingness to do some things the muggle way would appeal to Harry. He just hoped that his love wouldn't be upset that he took it upon himself to begin renovations on Snape's house.

Draco pointed his wand at the roll of painter's tape and it quickly applied itself around all of the edges that he wished to protect. He then set about pouring paint into the roller tray and setting up the paint roller. He'd chosen a paint that didn't require the walls to be primed before applying. Since he wanted to have his project finished quickly, and still do as much as possible without magic, he'd hope to save as many steps as possible. He also knew that David and Lucy would wonder how they'd gotten it all done so quickly.

Draco coated the fuzzy roller with the moss-green paint in the tray, and began to roll it on, over the dull white of the kitchen wall. It didn't take long to coat the walls of the tiny kitchen, and a little over two hours later, Draco was casting a drying charm to solidify the paint before he removed the tape from around the edges. Now that the room was painted, he felt that the run-down cabinetry needed an upgrade as well. He liked the design of the mid-century modern fixtures, but years of hard scrubbing had taken its toll on the finish of the metal cabinets and laminate countertop. Draco flicked his wand and the cabinetry was instantly restored to a gleaming porcelain finish with shiny silver-tone hardware. He repaired the cracked pendant light and reconditioned the chipped finish on the stove and oven. Once done, Draco stood back and admired the room, which now likely looked better than it did on the day that Snape's parents moved into the house. Draco decided to leave the kitchen table until he and Harry could decide whether or not to replace it and shop for something new together.

Satisfied, he moved on to the sitting room. The undersized parlour appeared even smaller, filled as it was with the stacks of books that the young wizards and witch had sorted on their last visit. Draco conjured three crates—one for the books they would donate to Hogwarts, one for the books that they'd decided to keep, and one for the books that they felt should best be destroyed. Draco shrank each stack of books and sent them to the proper crates, which he then sealed and shrank before sending them to the kitchen table.

He transfigured the bookshelves, leaving only one wall with shelving, and vanishing the cases on the other three, immediately giving the room a feeling of being expanded. Another flick of his wand and Draco had moved all of the furniture to the center of the room to cover with a drop cloth. Just as he was about to open the cans of paint that he'd chosen for the room, a shimmer of silver caught his eye in the corner, where a small wooden secretary had previously stood. He went to the corner to investigate and discovered a familiar-looking, round object. It appeared to be a lady's compact mirror. He'd seen his mother carry one in her purse and, bending to look closer, was only mildly surprised to see that it did in fact bear the Malfoy crest engraved upon it.

"So, Mother _has_ visited Spinner's End," he murmured. Draco debated whether to return the mirror to Narcissa. He'd already told her that he knew of her affair with Severus, but he also knew that she wasn't entirely comfortable with the knowledge of his awareness of that fact. He bent to pick it up, and the moment his fingertips made contact with the cool silver, he felt an unmistakable tug behind his navel.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy looked down his nose at the young healer standing on the other side of the desk.

" _Why_ is my wife not in her room?" he asked haughtily.

"Mrs. Malfoy has been moved to a more secure accommodation," replied Ernie MacMillan.

"And for what reason was that done?" Lucius quietly demanded. "Why was I not informed?"

"It appears that she has had a setback. Madame Malfoy believes herself to be in grave danger."

"Well, if she is in danger, perhaps she should not continue to be in care here. I wish to take her home. I will hire private duty medical care."

"I'm afraid not, sir," said Ernie. "It is in Mrs. Malfoy's best interest to remain convalescent here in the hospital."

"I think that is for me to decide," Lucius pursed his lips impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. It is not. Mrs. Malfoy has a directive authorizing only Draco Malfoy to make decisions on her behalf, should she become unable to do so."

"You can't be serious!" Lucius exclaimed. Ernie shrugged, and showed him the parchment. An incensed blush crept up from Lucius' collar, tinting his pale face pink. Ernie gripped the quill in his hand so tightly; he thought it would snap in two. He was determined not to shrink away from Lucius Malfoy, and sincerely hoped that the lie Harry had concocted and instructed him to give the man would hold up.

"She—but he—I demand to see my wife at once!"

"I am afraid that is not possible, sir. Patients suffering from this level of dementia are prohibited from having visitors."

"Preposterous!" Lucius argued. "When I spoke with her, she was lucid as ever! What have you done to my wife?"

"Sir, please lower your voice. This is a hospital," said Ernie. "As I said, Mrs. Malfoy has had a setback. She is prohibited at this time from receiving visitors. All decisions regarding her care must go through Draco Malfoy, per her written directive. I'm sorry."

"Healer MacMillan, please report to the emergency department," said the dispassionate intercom voice. Never was the young wizard so happy to be summoned away than at that moment.

"I am terribly sorry, sir. I really must go." Ernie quickly gathered his things and disapparated. The nurse who was sitting at the desk leapt to her feet and scurried into one of the rooms before Lucius could speak. He let out an impatient growl and disapparated in a swirl of robes.

* * *

"No. No! NO!" Draco scrambled to his feet when he landed. The tall hedges loomed several feet above him, nearly blocking out the sun. He looked around, frantically. The path stretched out in three directions. Draco fought to control his breathing and gripped his wand tightly. His wand! Maybe…he held his hand out flat, palm up. "Point me!"

The wand spun around slowly. Just as he thought it would stop and point him in the right direction, it began to spin in the opposite direction. Back and forth it turned for several minutes, until Draco grew nauseated from watching it, and finally curled his fingers around to stop it. How did Snape happen to have his mother's compact at his house—well, he had a pretty good idea how it came to be there, but why on earth had it been made into a portkey that would drop its passenger inside of the maze?

"Shit!" he cursed, glaring at the compact in his hand. "Why?" Draco took a deep breath to calm his anxiety.

This was no time to panic. He had to figure out a way to get out of the maze before Lucius discovered that he was there. He'd only wanted to surprise his Harry with something special to thank him for the owl and for finally declaring his love. He couldn't let things end like this. Draco turned the ring on his finger, the stone catching the slim angle of light that entered the maze, turning the scarlet to emerald.

* * *

Harry leaned back in his desk chair and reviewed the request he had written for a warrant to arrest Lucius Malfoy. He wanted to make certain that there was no wiggle room for a Polemarch to deny his request, or for Malfoy's legal counsel to have the charges dismissed. Satisfied that he'd dotted all of his 'I's and crossed all of his 't's, Harry signed the parchment and sealed it before sending it on to Wizengamot Administration Services with an "URGENT" marking on its seal.

He reached over and snagged the tin on the edge of Ron's desk, lifting the lid and taking two of the chocolate biscuits that Hermione had baked. He'd been working consistently since his meeting with Minister Shacklebolt, and his stomach was now reminding him that he hadn't actually eaten the muffin he'd purchased when he'd had coffee with Hermione earlier in the day, nor had he had lunch. Harry glanced at the photo of his two best mates on Ron's desk. Anyone looking could see that the couple was deeply in love. Of course, he'd seen the connection between them long before they had. Harry figured it was only a matter of time before Ron would finally work up the nerve to propose. Over the last year, Harry had seen him carefully working out each paycheck, and knew that he was saving to buy a ring. Harry wondered if his relationship with Draco would ever progress to that stage.

Did Draco even want to get married? What about kids? Where would they live? What would the public have to say about their relationship? Harry sat up. He couldn't believe that he was even considering such things. Their relationship had been such a whirlwind, that Harry realized that he and Draco had never truly had much in the way of a conversation about what their relationship goals might be. This was madness! He shoved the second biscuit into his mouth and gathered his belongings before heading determinedly for the fireplaces in the atrium.

* * *

"Draco!" Harry called, the moment he stepped from the fireplace into the drawing room. "Oh, hello, Mrs.—" Harry paused, quite shocked to discover Narcissa dressed in muggle clothing.

"Harry." She gave him a quick glance, before returning her attention to the magazine that she was reading. "You're a bit early. I don't believe Draco has yet returned." She flipped a page in the magazine, murmuring to herself. "Oh! I think I quite like that!"

"Oh, erm, did he happen to say where he was going?" Harry asked, nervously. "I hope he thought to wear a glamour." He deposited his things beside the piano.

"I'm afraid I don't know where he's gone. Kreacher said that he only mentioned returning home before you arrived from work, but—" she finally looked up at him.

"I'm early." Harry shrugged. "Well, I suppose I'll freshen up, then." He started for the door. "By the way, Mrs. Malfoy—"

"Narcissa," she said. Harry pulled a mildly nonplussed expression.

"Erm, Narcissa, I think muggle clothing rather suits you." He smiled. Narcissa stood then, turning a bit.

"Do you think so? I never knew that trousers could feel so…so liberating! I see why your girl, Adrestia, prefers them."

"I couldn't help but notice the magazine," he said, leaning against the door frame. "You didn't happen to—"

"I do hope it's alright that I ventured out. After my outing with the girl, I was curious. Don't worry! I wore a glamour, and I only visited the newsstand and a coffeehouse—muggles aren't too particular about their espresso, I must say."

"Ah, you must have gone to Starbucks." He grinned.

"Yes! I think that's what it was called. There was a siren on its shingle. Honestly, my first thought was that it might be a magical establishment, but there just seemed to be too many muggles about." She sat back down.

"Yes. Although, the way muggles flock to it like it's elixir of life, one might wonder just what is so special about their coffee beans." Harry chuckled. "Sometimes I think there may very well be magic behind some of these places. It's just the sort of thing I could imagine a resourceful muggleborn undertaking."

"Erm, Harry, do you mind—no, that's alright, I—" Narcissa picked up her magazine, gripping it tightly.

"Is there something you need, Mrs. Malfoy?" Harry asked. Narcissa's face was filled with ambivalence when she hesitantly turned back. "Narcissa," Harry pushed away from the wall. "It's alright. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I was wondering if…" she paused. "Might you teach me to use this mobile telephone thing? The young man in the shop used so many words that I just wasn't familiar with. I can't quite seem to figure it out."

Harry gawked when she retrieved the phone from her pocket. He couldn't believe that Narcissa had done anything so boldly muggle as purchasing a mobile phone. Up until this moment, he hadn't even known that she'd ventured out on her own.

"Sure!" he said at last, taking the phone. "First you have to turn on the power. That's this button here." He pointed to the button and pressed it. "Do you have a plan?" he asked.

"What type of plan? I just want to erm—make a call." She blushed. Harry wondered who Narcissa knew that owned a phone, besides himself and Draco.

"A calling plan—a service provider that you pay to allow your phone to make and receive calls. The phone retailer should have set you up."

"Ohh! Yes! Yes, that would be the man I paid for a number, right?" she asked. Harry nodded.

"Okay, good!" Harry showed her the basics of the phone features—how to turn it on and off, adjust the volume, and how to dial numbers. She practiced with a call to Harry's phone, and was delighted when she heard his phone ring on her first try. She tentatively held the device to her ear.

"There's a woman speaking!" she exclaimed. "Erm—hello? I think—" Narcissa looked at Harry in confusion. He smiled and gave her a chuckle.

"It's the voice mail recording," he explained. "If I'm unable to answer the call, you can leave a message, and I'll know to call you back. Ummm, think of it like sending a kind howler."

"Ohh," she nodded with wonder. Harry showed her how to set up and use voice mail, and he programmed his number and Draco's into the phone.

"Could I put _this_ number in there too?" she asked.

"Sure." He took the neatly folded Starbucks napkin and read the neat handwriting. "Preston Walcott."

"Erm—" Narcissa blushed. Harry gasped and grinned.

"The wizarding world will never be the same!" he teased.

"Oh, please don't say anything to Draco just yet!" she begged. "I met him the other night when I was out with Adrestia. And I happened upon him again at the newsstand. It's all so new, and I—"

"Don't worry; your secret is safe with me." Harry gave her a reassuring smile and patted her hand.

Harry looked down sharply as he suddenly felt the cuff on his wrist grow warm. He blinked several times, unsure if he'd just seen the horned serpent encircling the alexandrite jewel undulate.

"What is it?" Narcissa asked, noting the change in his demeanour.

"I—this bracelet that Draco gave me—it—" He was certain this time that the horned serpent had _indeed_ moved. Narcissa immediately grabbed his wrist. Harry could feel her hand trembling.

"Is he—does Draco have a b-bracelet also?" she asked, her eyes wide and nervous.

"No, he—but he has a ring with a jewel from the same stone." Realization dawned upon Harry at the same moment that Narcissa spoke.

"The protean charm!" she breathed, gripping him tighter. "Harry! Draco—"

"No. No. Calm down, Narcissa." Harry squeezed her hand. "Just give me a moment. I'm sure everything will be fine."

Harry turned away from her and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. He focused all of his thoughts on Draco.

* * *

Draco stood at the center of the maze with his eyes closed; trying to remember the last time he'd flown his broom overhead. Had he taken notice of the paths below? Had anyone attempted the tall hedge labyrinth since then? Suddenly, his head swam, and he stumbled. He snapped his eyes open, careful not to step into any of the paths or grab onto the hedges.

 _"_ _Draco, my love!_ "

"Harry!" Draco looked around. "Harry?"

" _Focus, Draco. What's happened? Where are you?_ "

* * *

Harry spun around to face Narcissa, his expression grim.

"He's at Malfoy Manor…in the maze."

"No!" Narcissa leapt to her feet. "Are you sure! How do you know?"

"Trust me! I know that's where he is. He's trying to remember the layout." Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "Couldn't he just apparate out?"

"Oh, Salazar! He can't! Lucius placed an anti-disapparition jinx on it when the Dark Lord took over the Manor!"

"Okay, well, what about _Diffindo?_ He could cut away the hedges and make a straight path out." Harry closed his eyes again.

"No! No! The hedges are cross-planted with Devil's Snare. If you try to cut away the hedges, the devil's snare grows up in its place. You can't cross through it! The only way, is to take the correct paths out of the maze!"

"Godric's sword! Who _designed_ this labyrinth?" Harry thought back to the maze in the final task of the Tri-Wizard tournament.

"It was me! I designed it!" she confessed. Narcissa covered her mouth with both hands to stifle a sob. "We have to save him, Harry! If Lucius finds out—"

"Alright, Narcissa, alright. Don't worry, I will go get him." Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

" _Stay where you are, my love. Help is on the way._ "

"NO! Harry, you can't! It's a trap! You don't know how to get out of the maze!"

"It's okay. I have an idea." He gave her a reassuring smile. She didn't look convinced. "Narcissa. I'm an Auror. I've escaped your Manor once. I can do it again."

"Fine then. I'm going with you." Narcissa summoned her wand. "I created that foul labyrinth, but I will not allow it to trap my son and his love!" She grabbed Harry's hand and turned.

* * *

The fireplace flared green the moment that Lucius entered the drawing room and Theodore Nott's voice echoed into the room.

"Are you there, Malfoy?"

"What do you want, Nott?" Lucius approached the fireplace with a toss of his hair.

"You said that you would be in touch in short order. It has been nearly a week. Rumour has it that Draco has been arrested. What's going on?"

"There seems to have been a slight hiccup. My legal team is working on it."

"Oh, I'm _sure_ they are. I'm running out of patience, Lucius." The young man's face was hard. "Either you have Draco sign the contract, or I pledge my sister to someone else, and my offer will no longer be on the table."

" _Don't you threaten me, Nott!_ " Lucius yelled. "I—" A sparkle of green caught his eye, and Lucius looked to the crystal chandelier. A single teardrop shaped crystal glittered green.

"Lucius!"

"I must go. You will hear from me forthwith!" Lucius flicked his wand and sealed the floo before Nott could say anything more.

He stormed out into the grand foyer and looked up to find another green crystal in its chandelier.

"It couldn't be!" Lucius raced to his study on the second floor and flung open the doors. The flames in the sconces all glowed bright green—a signal that someone had breached the wards and was trapped in the maze. He summoned a broom.

* * *

"Harry! Mother! What are you doing here?" Draco exclaimed when they appeared in the narrow passage at the heart of the maze. "Mother! What are you _wearing?"_ He gawked at Narcissa.

"Now's not the time for that!" she exclaimed. "We have to get you out of here before your father is alerted! How did you end up here? Draco please tell me you didn't come to confront him!"

"Of course not! I found this, and it turned out to be a portkey. Why?" He held out the compact mirror. Narcissa's hand fluttered to her mouth in surprise.

"I—I gave it to Severus. We…used to meet here in the maze before your father placed the anti-disapparition jinx on it. I—"

"Listen, no offence, but I think maybe this discussion can wait until later. Let's just get out of here," said Harry.

"How?" asked Draco. "The moment we step down a path, the others will be sealed off. If we take the wrong one, we're trapped!"

"We'll get out the same way Luna, Mr. Ollivander and Dean escaped the Manor." Harry smiled. The other two stared at him with bemused expressions. "Kreacher!" Harry exclaimed.

"Wha—" Draco began. Suddenly, the old elf appeared alongside him. "Merlin! How's this going to help?"

"Never underestimate elfin magic, Draco." Harry turned to Kreacher. "Take us—"

"To the main house!" commanded Draco.

"What? No, Draco!"

"Harry, this ends today! You have Great-grandfather's wand. You have our memories. What more do you need? I will testify at his trial, and tell everyone what it is he's trying to get his hands on!"

"Draco, you can't. This is an Auror job—" Harry protested.

"And _you're_ an Auror, are you not? Do your job, and arrest him!"

Harry opened his mouth to argue again, but Narcissa placed her hand on his arm.

"Harry, Draco is right. The longer you wait, the more desperate Lucius will become. You don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Even if we leave, he'll still know someone has been here, and he might decide that it's safer to disappear," Draco added. "He'd already hinted at that possibility when he confessed to me that day in holding."

Harry looked from mother to son, their gazes resolute, and let out a sigh. He was breaking a multitude of procedures and was certain that Gawain would have him investigating misuse of muggle artefacts for the next six months, but if he could bring an end to Lucius' plan, it would all be worth it.

"Okay, here's what we will do," he said.

* * *

Lucius pulled back on his broomstick when he approached the maze, stunned to see a figure emerging from the opening in the tall hedge. He descended to ground level and dismounted, wand pointed.

"Harry Potter! How the devil did you get onto my property?"

"I am an Auror, Malfoy," he replied, coolly indicating the badge on his robes. "That is _some_ labyrinth you have there. It's almost as daunting as the one from the Tri-Wizard tournament, don't you think?"

Lucius flinched noticeably, and Harry arched a brow. He knew that the mention of the Tri-Wizard tournament had brought up the memory of Voldemort's return in Little Hangleton. Lucius tossed his hair, recovering himself, and pasted on a calculating smile.

"Am I to assume that you have reconsidered your position regarding my son's bond?" he asked.

"Not while you are pointing your wand at my face," Harry replied. Lucius snorted, but lowered his wand.

"Of course. Shall we?" he gestured in the direction of the house.

"After you."

Their long strides carried them quickly over the manicured lawns to the house where Harry followed Lucius into the empty drawing room. Harry suppressed a shudder, pushing away the memory of his last visit. Lucius turned with a flourish.

"Now then, I am pleased that you have had a change of heart. It seems that my beloved Narcissa has taken a turn for the worst. I am sure that if she could only see our Draco—he means the world to her—us."

Harry struggled not to roll his eyes, "I am sure."

"So then, name your price. How much for you to assist in securing Draco's release?"

"I don't want your money, Malfoy," said Harry.

"Really?" Lucius eyed Harry suspiciously. "What _do_ you want?" he asked.

"I want you—in Azkaban for the use of an Unforgivable Curse and the intentional infliction of Grievous Bodily Harm upon your wife, Narcissa." Harry held Lucius' gaze. Lucius scoffed.

"You must be joking! I did no such thing. Narcissa has been under great strain—the trials, and Draco's disappearance—"

"Have nothing to do with how she ended up ingesting the Drink of Despair." Harry's gaze remained placid, even as he caught the twitch of nervousness in Lucius' sneer.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lucius lifted his chin, haughtily. "You can't prove any of your ridiculous accusations!"

"Are you sure?" It was Harry's turn to smirk as he flicked his wand and the doors to the drawing room were flung open. Lucius looked past him to see Draco and Narcissa entering.

"Draco! Narcissa, my _darling!_ " An expression of surprise morphed into relief, and Lucius started forward. They said you—" He stopped suddenly. "Are you wearing _muggle_ clothing!" His face was a mask of astonished disdain. "Narcissa! Trousers? Trousers!"

"Lucius Malfoy, I am arresting you on suspicion of the intentional infliction of Grievous Bodily Harm to one Narcissa Malfoy, as well as attempted bribery of a Ministry of Magic Official, and for the use of Unforgivable Curses, acts of magic prohibited by the Wizengamot Decree of 1717. You do—"

"What is the meaning of this!" Lucius raised his wand as Harry advanced.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Narcissa disarmed him. Lucius gawked at her in open astonishment.

"Narcissa! Give me back my wand at once!" he demanded.

"I will _not_ , Lucius! How _dare_ you Imperious me!" she shrieked.

" _Colafus!"_ Harry pointed his wand at Lucius, but the wizard, still holding his enchanted walking stick, blocked the spell, turning on the spot, and disapparated. "Dammit!"

"He's still here!" Draco declared. While you had him distracted at the maze, Mother and I extended the anti-disapparition jinx and closed off the floo. He can't leave The Manor." He strode purposefully towards the door. "He's going for another wand!"

They raced up the stairs to the study, and found Lucius summoning a mahogany wand from a display behind his desk. He spun around, leveling it at them.

"How _dare_ you side with the likes of Harry Potter!"

"We wouldn't even be _alive_ were it not for him!" Narcissa declared. She attempted to disarm him again. He blocked her spell, and flung another curse. Draco leapt in front of Narcissa, casting a shield charm, but his mother grabbed his arm and pulled him back. She flung a curse at Lucius.

Lucius battled his wife and son, and Harry as if he were in a single duel, and not facing three formidable mages with battle-hardened dueling skills. Harry fired a stunner, which he blocked before retaliating, forcing Harry to take cover.

"Give it up, Lucius! We _can't_ go back to the way things were! Look at what you've _done!_ " Narcissa implored him. _Incarcerous!_

"I will not! How could you betray me, Narcissa?" He deflected her spell and hurled another curse, a jet of red shooting from his wand. She dodged it, rolling away, and his desk exploded, disintegrating into tiny pieces.

"Betray _you!_ Betray _you!"_ Narcissa shrieked, getting swiftly to her feet. "I have _ever_ only stood beside you! Even after you gave over our _only son_ to The Dark Lord! You _selfish_ _bastard!_ " Narcissa's eyes were filled with fury, and she charged at Lucius, flinging spells and curses, one after the other.

A gash appeared across Lucius cheek, blood running down his face. He touched his face, and glared at his wife.

"You _bitch!_ " he spat. " _Cru_ —"

" _Sectumsempra!_ " Draco screamed, pushing Narcissa out of the way.

Lucius let out an earsplitting howl as his arm was severed from his body. He slumped to the floor, screaming in agony as blood poured from the wound. Harry rushed to him and began to wave his wand back and forth over the wound.

" _Vulnera Sanentur,_ " he repeated, stemming the flow of blood and removing the residue of his shredded sleeve, before closing the wound.

Draco ran to Narcissa, and the two clung to one another, unable to watch as Lucius writhed, his screams eventually subsiding to shuddering moans. Harry summoned the wand from the hand of the severed arm, tucking it into his robes before vanishing the now useless appendage. He conjured bandages to wrap about the wound.

"Draco, I'll need you to lift the jinx now," he said.

"Is he—" Narcissa asked.

"He's alive, but there's nothing to be done for the arm. We should get him to St. Mungo's as quickly as possible, before he goes into shock."

Draco lifted the enchantments and Harry pulled an emergency portkey from his robes, taking them all directly to St. Mungo's where Lucius was given blood-replenishing potion, and dittany was applied to his wounds.

* * *

It was a defeated and furious Lucius Malfoy who later sat hunched on the edge of the bed in a secure room. He rubbed the fingers of his remaining hand together in an attempt to remove the dried blood from his skin. The door squeaked slightly, and he raised his head in search of his wife, but it was Draco who stepped in. He looked away.

"You! How could you do this to me, Draco?" Lucius rasped, fixing his son with a malevolent glare.

"You did it to yourself, Lucius. What kind of man would sell his own son, all to satisfy his lust for power?"

"I _have_ no son!"

"I have no _Father!_ " Draco spat. "Did you ever, _ever_ in my life, love me at all? Did you even _want_ me, or was I simply to fulfill your duty to sire an heir? You _never_ cared about me! You never asked what mattered to _me!_ You only wanted me to be a dutiful carbon copy of yourself!" Draco angrily pointed an accusing finger at Lucius. "Win at all costs! Destroy the mudbloods and the blood traitors! _They_ were the ones who _saved_ our arses! Look at you! You're no leader! You're nothing but a wretched sycophant, just like Pettigrew! The Dark Lord used you because we had money! All you've ever done is lie and cheat, and pay your way out of every situation! You're _pathetic!_ " Draco's lips curled into a sneer as Harry entered the room. "It's just too bad the dementors are no longer at Azkaban. Losing your wand hand isn't _nearly_ enough punishment for you! I should have destroyed you! I should have _killed you!_ " Draco screamed. "I _hate you!"_

"Draco." Harry's voice was calm, and he placed a hand on his shoulder, but Draco ignored him, shaking it off.

" _I hate you!"_ Draco launched himself at Lucius, but Harry grabbed him.

"Draco, calm down!" Harry struggled to hold him.

 _"_ _I hate you!_ Let me go, Harry! Let me _go!"_

"No, love. Stop—stop it!" Harry pulled Draco into his embrace, holding him tightly, until his shouts became sobs.

"I hate him, Harry! I _hate_ him!" Draco clung desperately to Harry as he cried. Harry kissed the side of his head, stroking his hair, all the while staring over his shoulder, directly at Lucius as he intoned in Draco's ear.

"It's over, my love. I'm here for you. It's over. It's over."

"Salazar's wand! What the devil is going on here?" Lucius demanded in outrage. Draco sniffled and swiped a hand across his eyes before he turned around to face his father once again.

"Didn't you know, Lucius? I'm totally bent, and Harry here has always been my heart's one and only desire. Surely Theodore told you. He never missed an opportunity to hint at it while we were in school." Draco wrapped an arm around Harry's waist, pulling him close to his side. "We've shared everything since he found me a few weeks ago. I've been living with him since I returned, and Mother has recently joined us. I hope one day that he will marry me."

Lucius' mouth dropped open in apoplectic shock. Draco sneered at his father. "Harry, darling, I'm going to take Mother home. Will you be long?"

"I'll do my best to be as quick as I can." Harry gave him a mischievous grin. Draco kissed him on the lips and left the room without so much as a backward glance at Lucius. Harry turned to him.

"I—you—how—" Lucius stammered incoherently. Harry shrugged with a smirk.

"I _know_." He nodded. "I understand. Whoever would have guessed? I was as shocked to discover it then as you are now." He flicked his wand at the door, and two more Aurors entered the room. "Lucius Malfoy, I am arresting you on suspicion of the intentional infliction Grievous Bodily Harm against one Narcissa Malfoy, and for the use of Unforgivable Curses, acts of magic prohibited by the Wizengamot Decree of 1717. You do not have to provide any memories, however, any memories you yield may be given in evidence. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on. Anything you do say, with or without veritaserum, may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"


	36. Life Could Be a Dream

Despite his best efforts, several hours passed before Harry was able to leave the Ministry of Magic for home. Word spread quickly that Lucius Malfoy had been arrested after attacking Harry when he attempted to arrest him, subsequently losing an arm at the wand of his own son. The entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement seemed to be present when they arrived; Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement Patrol Wizards and Witches were either staring openly or helping to fend off reporters and photographers hungry to be the first to run the exclusive headline.

Gawain Robards was furious that Harry had made the arrest before his warrant was approved, and only relented when Harry insisted that there were exigent circumstances, explaining that Draco had been trapped in the maze. Despite the additional charges levied against Lucius for possession of dangerous potions belonging to Tom Riddle, and attempted bribery of a Ministry official, Gawain relegated Harry to administrative duty for the next six weeks. Harry shrugged, happy that his prediction of a six-month suspension from active investigation did not come to pass. He completed his paperwork as quickly has he could possibly do so without making any errors that would adversely affect the outcome of the case. He hurriedly gathered his belongings for a second time, and was headed across the squad room for the exit, when Patrol Witch Vietti informed him that the press were camped out in the atrium waiting for him. He thanked her profusely and headed for the apparition point in the catacombs.

Draco was waiting when Harry stepped out of the fireplace into the parlour at Number Twelve.

"I'm so sorry that it took me so long, my darling. It was a madhouse. I—" Draco was on his feet before Harry could finish. He pressed a finger to his lips and pulled him in close.

"It's alright. I understand, beloved." Draco brushed his lips over Harry's. "I owe you an explanation for how I ended up at The Manor in the first place. Come on." He took Harry's hand and turned.

The most heavenly aromas immediately filled Harry's nostrils when they landed. It took him a brief moment to realize that they were at the house in Spinner's End. The sitting room was no longer dark and crowded with shelves crammed full of books. The walls were a pale gray with bright white trim. Behind the volumes on the remaining bookcase, the wall was a deep gray that made the white shelves stand out in contrast. The sofa and armchairs had been reupholstered in an opulent shade of navy blue, the sagging cushions plumped like new, and the scarred side tables buffed smooth and polished to a shine. Above the mantelpiece, a large silver frame highlighted a sketch of Hedwig. The small photo of young Lily Evans still held prominence between the candlesticks. Harry turned from the drawing to Draco in surprise.

"I hope you don't mind. I found it in the wardrobe at Number Twelve. Dean is quite gifted, and I know how much Hedwig meant to you." Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's waist.

"You remodeled the entire house?"

"Unfortunately, I didn't get that far. I had hoped to surprise you by painting the muggle way. I'd finished the kitchen and was setting up in here when I discovered Mother's compact mirror lost in a corner. I had no idea that it was a portkey." Draco sighed apologetically. Harry gave him a reassuring squeeze. "I have to admit that I finished this room magically. I wanted to have time to cook and get back to Number Twelve before you returned home."

"You _cooked?_ " Harry gave him an incredulous look. Draco shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"America has made me a changed man," he replied. "Come on."

He led Harry out to the terrace where dozens of bluebell flames flickered in glass bottles of different sizes and shapes all around the space, and a fire bowl floated above the center of the table, which had been set for dinner, beside which a bottle of wine sat on ice in a silver bucket. Draco pulled out a chair for Harry and flicked his wand to summon two covered dishes from the kitchen. He removed the domed covers with a flourish and vanished them before uncorking the wine and pouring.

"I placed everything under a warming charm."

"You did all this for me?" Harry was awestruck by the dinner of veal piccata, with orzo pasta and a vegetable medley which featured grilled artichokes, carrots, summer squash, zucchini and eggplant.

"For _us_ , Harry." Draco sat down across from him and took his hand. "I love you, Harry Potter. You don't know what it meant to have you say that you love me too, in spite of our past. I want us to build a future together."

"Are you—are you _proposing?_ " Harry stammered, his eyes wide. Draco smiled and bit his lip.

"No," he replied. "It's not that I might not _want_ to—someday," he hastily added. He squeezed Harry's hand. "I just wanted to show you what you mean to me—without the waiters, or house-elves…or elaborate spells—just sincere Draco." He worried his lip as he gazed into Harry's eyes.

"I love it…and I love _you,_ Draco Malfoy." Harry leaned across the table and planted a kiss on his lips. He lifted his glass of wine. "To us."

"Forever," said Draco.

"Always," said Harry. They touched their glasses with a gentle clink.

After their meal, Harry washed the dishes while Draco dried them and put them away.

"I love the colors you used in here. It makes the room feel more inviting—alive!" said Harry as he rinsed a skillet and passed it to Draco.

"Do you, really? I was worried you wouldn't like the green."

"I think it's perfect. This shade works well here, especially with the white fixtures. Everything was so dull before, don't you think?" Harry rinsed the last dish and turned to survey the room, wiping his damp hands on his shirt.

"It is perfect," said Draco as he put away the dish. "But your manners are _not._ " He pursed his lips, flinging the towel at Harry, who dried his hands and flung it back at him with a smirk. Draco rolled his eyes and snapped the towel, stinging Harry's thigh. Harry yelped, jumping backward and looking at him in surprise. Draco simply winked at him, his lips curving into his characteristic smirk.

They returned to the sitting room with more wine and a small platter of cannoli, which they fed one another as Harry lay in Draco's arms.

"It's funny," Harry said, taking a sip of wine. He traced circles on Draco's thigh with his free hand.

"What's that?" Draco asked, lightly carding his fingers through Harry's hair.

"Well, before I left the office—the first time—I was thinking that we hadn't really taken the time to assess our relationship. You know, talk about the mundane things like whether we would live together, live here, London, America…we haven't even done something as simple as take a photo together."

"True."

"I'm not complaining, mind you," Harry added quickly. "I was just thinking about it all, daydreaming really, and it occurred to me that I didn't really know if we wanted the same things from this—our relationship." He sighed and took another sip of wine. "Then, as my life seems wont to do, everything suddenly went to hell in a handbasket. I had come home early to bring all these things up, and—"

"And I had to go and foul it all up," said Draco. Harry sat up, turning to Draco as he set his glass aside.

"No, you didn't. How were you to know you were picking up a portkey? When you confronted Lucius like that—I—"

"I meant every word, Harry. My father's conniving, selfish lust for power nearly destroyed us all. It's like he didn't even care that he'd been given a second chance to live a better life. I absolutely hate him. I hate him for making me choose between loyalty to my name and my love for you. Sometimes I wonder what it might have been like if I'd chosen you, right from the beginning—tried harder to let you know how I really felt, instead of playing games."

"Draco—"

"No, wait. When I first came back here—the day that I followed you from the newsstand—you said that people use you, and the ones who don't always get hurt. I understand that. I do. I told you that Lucius' motto was that 'the rich and powerful take what they want'. He used me over and over again to do just that. I don't think I've ever known what real love is."

"Narcissa loves you, Draco."

"Oh, she does, without a doubt. Still, Mother was never...doting. It wasn't in the way she was raised. Mother's love is a duty—to protect her offspring. In some ways, affection is new to her. Mother is much smarter than most people—father, especially—take her for. She's observant enough to have taken notice of how I felt about you, but she didn't begin to understand me until she realized that she could lose me.

When we started all of this with Lucius, Tia asked me if I was only using you to get back at him. I didn't think that I was. I had planned to take him for everything, long before you came back into my life, but I think maybe I did unintentionally use you, Harry. I hope that you can forgive me for that. And as for those who care about you always getting hurt—well, I think we cleared that hurdle in the second floor girls' lavatory quite some time ago." He pulled Harry back into his arms. "You're the first person to ever just _love_ me, Harry. You chose me, and you came back for me. You don't need or want anything material from me—you have friends, wealth, fame—even though you carry on as though you could do without it—but I still want to give you the world. I want to give you everything you've never had—new experiences, memories—good ones—maybe even someday a family. For there's not a refined man who doesn't take pleasure at the spectacle of the happiness of the person he adores."

* * *

Narcissa sat on the edge of her bed staring at the mobile phone in her hand. She'd wanted to call Preston the moment that she asked Harry to show her to use the phone, but all of the excitement of the confrontation with Lucius had placed her plans on the back burner. She had tossed and turned all night when Draco escorted her back to Number Twelve from the hospital. How could she feel any disloyalty to Lucius, when he'd hardly shown her any in quite some time? Her own husband had poisoned her, brokered a deal to trade their son for some dark artefact, and then actually dueled the both of them in their very own home! She couldn't shake the image of Lucius raising his wand, yet another Unforgivable Curse upon his lips and aimed toward her, when Draco leapt between them. Her stomach lurched slightly at the memory of blood pooling between Lucius and his severed arm, fingers still twitching around the hilt of the wand.

Those thoughts battled with her curious attraction to the muggle who'd unknowingly wed a witch, and was likely raising another. How would he react when he found out? What would he think when he learned that his wife's death was no accident? Could she keep such a secret from him? Narcissa set the phone aside.

Once Preston learned that Morwenna was a witch, Narcissa knew she would not be able to hide her dark past from him. The war would surely become a part of the curriculum at Hogwarts, and the Malfoys had always provided plenty of fodder for the press when Harry wasn't. She bit her lip,

"Andromeda always said my dreams were too big for my cauldron," she murmured, thinking of her estranged sister.

"Of course, she also said that desire and love are stronger than fear."

Narcissa looked up at the painting over the hearth. Dorea Black Potter gave her great-niece a knowing nod.

"Auntie! You've been spying on me?"

"I have only noticed the _absolutely unseemly_ manner in which you and Draco have behaved since arriving at the house. The blood traitor has had quite an effect upon you both! _Trousers!_ Honestly child! What has gotten into you?"

"Reality, my dear aunt. The war has affected us all in many ways. I find it interesting that you would quote my sister. I seem to recall you standing with Mother and Father when she was told never to darken their doorstep again." The witch in the painting gave a shrug. Narcissa thought again of Lucius uttering Unforgivable Curses that were aimed at her, and the agony of the potion she'd ingested. She snatched up the phone.

* * *

Harry and Draco woke late and ate a rushed breakfast before apparating back to Number Twelve. The two wizards had talked into the night, eventually falling asleep on the sofa, curled into one another's arms. Although he didn't want to do anything but spend a lazy day, lying in Draco's arms, Harry knew there was still much to be done ahead of Lucius' arraignment hearing and he would have to go in to work.

"I know you're getting tired of it, but I still think you should keep a low profile for a while longer, my love. The press are hungry for this story, and they'll be all over you and Narcissa," said Harry as he shaved.

"Yes, I'd like to avoid that if at all possible. We'll have to deal with it all with soon enough. Perhaps I can convince Mother to come to Cokeworth with me and work on the house. Maybe she can do something with that barren terrace. She's amazing with horticulture and herbology you know." Draco leaned against the headboard, his bare feet crossed at the ankle.

"She said that she designed the maze at The Manor," said Harry, adjusting a towel about his waist as he emerged from the bath. Draco nodded. "That's frightening." Harry smirked. He turned to the bureau and retrieved underwear.

"Mother's much smarter than many give her credit for, Lucius especially. Kreacher, you're soiling Master Harry's robes," he said.

Harry turned and saw that the hems of his freshly pressed clothes dragged over the floor as the old elf entered the room with them levitated before him. He took the robes from Kreacher and flicked his wand to clean them up. Kreacher slumped to the floor and begged for forgiveness. Harry stared at him curiously.

The old elf had always been absolutely fastidious in his duties, and often commented on his honor to serve the House of Black, scoffing at Harry's attempts to offer him kindness.

"Kreacher, are you ill?" he asked.

"Kreacher is only feeling a bit of his age, Master Harry. Kreacher will not let any weakness deter him from service to the House of Black." Kreacher pulled himself to his feet and bowed unsteadily, staggering a bit as he lifted his over-large head. Harry caught him before he could fall, shooting a glance over at Draco, who had now sat up and was also giving the elf a concerned look.

"Kreacher, I want you to go to your cupboard and stay there for the rest of the day." The house elf gave him an indignant look. "I mean it, Kreacher. That's an order. You are to do no more cooking or cleaning today. Do you understand?" Harry crouched to his level and looked him in the eye. Kreacher adamantly shook his head.

"Kreacher does not rest, Master. It is a house elf's first duty to serve the house to which he is bound."

"It's not up for discussion, Kreacher. If I find out you have done any work around the house today, I will be most displeased." Harry studiously hardened his gaze. Kreacher looked to Draco, hopefully. Harry rolled his eyes.

"You heard Master Harry, Kreacher. Go to your cupboard and stay there. Period," Draco said, firmly. The old elf gave in, and hanging his head, he trudged from the room even more slowly than he had entered. Harry sat down on the bed beside Draco.

"Do you think he's ill?" he asked. "He's so old!"

"I don't know. I've honestly never seen a sick house elf, but then Dobby and Pippy were so young."

"You had more than one elf?" Harry looked surprised.

"Have you not _seen_ Malfoy Manor?" Draco gave him an exasperated look. Harry rolled his eyes again and stood to finish dressing. "We have at least one elf at each of our residences. Before Dobby defected, there were three at The Manor, Dobby, his sister Pippy, and Tickety, who came to the house just before Dobby left." Draco held Harry's Auror robes for him to slip into, gently smoothing them out and adjusting the badge pinned to his lapel. "Don't look at me like that. It's tradition. At least for the Malfoys, but you can _clearly_ see that Mimi isn't treated the way Lucius treated our elves."

"Yeah. I wonder what Kreacher would make of her clothes," said Harry. "She and Kreacher would get along like a house on fire."

"I shall ask mother if she might have an idea if it's anything serious." Draco fussed with Harry's hair until he grimaced and batted his hands away. "Hopeless!" Draco tsked. He shepherded Harry towards the door. "You're going to be late," he said.

"I'm already late," Harry replied, leaning in for a kiss. Draco obliged him with a peck on the cheek. "How about I bring takeaway out to Spinner's End?"

"That sounds like a novel idea. You know, Mother has never had pizza!"

"Well, then pizza it is! I'll send a patronus if I'm running late." Harry kissed Draco once more and dashed for the floo.

* * *

Seconds later, Harry was regretting his hasty exit. He hadn't thought to use the apparition point and was now blinded by camera flashes as he stepped into the atrium at the Ministry of Magic.

"Harry! Harry! Is it true that Lucius Malfoy poisoned his wife? Harry! Harry! How did you find Draco Malfoy? Where has he been hiding? Harry! Was Draco in on the plot to kill his mother? Where is Narcissa now? Harry! Harry! How did Lucius lose his arm? Harry! Why wasn't Draco arrested?" the reporters shouted over one another, crowding Harry as he attempted to make his way to the security checkpoint.

"No comment! I have no comment right now! I cannot— _Silencio Maxima!_ " Harry shouted. The voices of the reporters were suddenly silenced as if he'd pressed the 'mute' button on a television remote. The journalists backed down and angrily glared at him. "Enough! You all know very well that I cannot comment on a case pending before the Wizengamot! I can only say that Lucius Malfoy was arrested on charges of intent to cause grievous bodily harm to Narcissa Malfoy, use of an Unforgivable Curse, and attempted bribery of a Ministry Official. Any other information regarding the case _must_ be obtained from Wizengamot Administration Services. Good day!" Harry pushed his way through the throng of reporters to the security desk and checked in. Once he was beyond the golden gates, he lifted the spell and strode to the lifts with a huff. When he exited on level 2, he was once again accosted, this time by several of his colleagues in the DMLE.

"Is it true?" asked Abel Proudfoot, a senior Auror. "Do you reckon the charges will stick?"

"Of course the charges will stick!" Ron interjected. "Why wouldn't they?"

"His legal team will question the fact that you testified for him after the war, and now you're arresting him again," said Proudfoot.

"Let them. I stand behind what I said then. I stand behind what my testimony will be this time." Harry made his way to the investigation department on the other side of the squad room and the office that he shared with Ron, enduring the pats on the back, handshakes and curious stares. He let out a sigh when he finally reached his desk, grateful to see that Ron had deposited a cup of coffee on his desk. He didn't fancy wading back into the fray just for a fresh jolt of caffeine. Ron entered a few moments later and sat down at his own desk, propping up his feet as he took a long sip of coffee.

"So, what happened? How'd Lucius end up losing his arm?"

Harry cast a privacy spell and detailed how Draco ended up taking a portkey into the maze.

"You know how my plans always seem to turn out," said Harry. "I'd expected Lucius to come to me again and try to bribe me, but I had no idea that Draco would wind up trapped in the maze and accidentally tip him off. Naturally, when I confronted him, he tried to do a runner. I've got to hand it to Draco and Narcissa. They anticipated this and trapped him in his own house. Narcissa is quite the skilled duelist!" he exclaimed. "That's what did him in. He took on all three of us as if he was simply exercising his wand hand. She slashed his face and he went straight for the Cruciatus Curse. Well, you can imagine that Draco was having none of that. He took the arm clean off with _Sectumsempra._ I don't know if he meant to take his wand arm, or actually kill him, but I can imagine you'd do the same if someone came after Molly." Harry sipped his coffee.

"No, I wouldn't," Ron replied.

"Aw, come on, Ron! What would you do? A disarming spell?" Harry looked at him incredulously. Ron scoffed.

"That's your bailiwick, mate. If anyone were to come after Mum, they're getting the killing curse."

"Of course. I should have known better." Ron raised his mug, and Harry tapped it with his own.


	37. Listen With Mother

** _Another short one, but things are moving along. Thanks to blacknblu30 and DipstickPines for your reviews!_

* * *

Narcissa exhaled slowly, releasing the death grip she'd had on her son for the duration of the ride. She could still feel the vibration of the motorbike thrumming through her. Draco lowered the kickstand and extended a hand to allow her to climb from the bike. She carefully dismounted with only a slight stagger and he followed suit, removing his helmet and shaking out his hair. She did the same, looking up and down the narrow street.

"This is Spinner's End! Goodness! It looks so different!" she exclaimed, removing her gloves.

"The entire area is undergoing redevelopment," said Draco. "The old mill is being converted into a shopping centre."

"A shopping centre?" Narcissa gave him a curious look.

"It's like a high street—like Diagon Alley, only indoors usually," he explained.

"Oh. How curious!"

"Draco! Hiya!" Lucy waved, and crossed the street towards them, Blythe strapped in her pushchair.

"Lucy! Good to see you!" Draco replied. He gave her a light peck when she approached, and bent to tickle Blythe's chin. "May I present my mother, Narcissa Malfoy?"

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Milady." Lucy gave a slight curtsy. Narcissa looked at Draco, who shrugged.

"Mother, this is Lucy Carrington and her daughter Blythe. They live just across the street."

"Ah, yes. How do you do?" Narcissa nodded politely.

"My! That is quite impressive riding gear!" Lucy exclaimed, admiring Narcissa's attire.

Draco had managed to convince Narcissa to ride with him by transfiguring a dragon-hide flying cloak into a fashionable cycle outfit. The boots and slim-fitting trousers matched the iridescent deep purple jacket which boasted lacing on either side to cinch the waist. The shoulders and upper sleeves were adorned with round silver studs which also accented the embroidered filigree embellishments on the back.

"Oh, thank you! It was the only way Draco could get me to consent to ride this infernal contraption." Narcissa glanced at her son.

"She loved every minute of it!" he teased. "How about a cup of tea?"

"We'd love to!"

They entered the house and settled around the kitchen table, Blythe bouncing on her mother's knee as she gummed a teething toy, babbling incessantly.

"The kitchen looks _great!_ " Lucy declared. "I love the color! And you kept the original look. How hip!"

"Well, I rather like the clean lines and the stark whitness," Draco replied. "It contrasts nicely with the green." The kettle whistled and he got up to pour.

"So, how's Harry? Up to his eyeballs in conferences and plea proceedings? I'll bet you'll be happy when he finishes second six, yeah?" Lucy sipped her tea, setting her cup down on the table out of Blythe's reach.

"He is attending an arraignment on a rather significant criminal case. I hope it won't be a lengthy one." Draco chanced a glance at Narcissa who smiled tightly and sipped her own tea.

"Oh, wow! Has he given you any thrilling details?" Lucy rested her chin on her elbow and raised her brow conspiratorially.

"No. You know how these things go. He might get into trouble for releasing sensitive information before the case goes to trial," he lied. Draco knew every sordid detail, but it wouldn't do to tell their new friend that his father had attempted to murder his mother and force him into an arranged marriage. Even if he could come up with a lie to explain the blood betrothal, he was certain she'd find it outrageous at best. Fortunately, she only nodded and quickly moved on to another topic.

"So, Lady Malfoy, it must have come as quite a surprise when Draco told you they'd bought a house in Spinner's End."

"There's no need to use a title, dear. I'm not quite so formal these days. It was unexpected to learn that they'd purchased the house, but Severus was Draco's godfather. They were quite close." Narcissa stirred honey into her tea. "I think I was more surprised that it was Harry's idea. I was under the impression that they didn't care for one another."

"So Draco mentioned. You don't think it was because of their sexuality do you?"

"Oh, no." Narcissa replied dismissively. She sipped her tea. "I think it was quite possibly the same reason I was rather averse to their relationship at first." Draco looked at her strangely. "Harry was something of a distraction to Draco. They antagonized one another throughout school. I was surprised to discover that they managed at last to strike up a relationship." She smiled over the rim of her cup.

"So you and your husband aren't bothered about Draco being gay?" Lucy asked. Blythe whimpered and squirmed in her lap.

"Not at all. Though I do believe my husband would rather he marry someone of the same station, I'd rather see my son happy." Narcissa reached across the table and patted his hand. Draco smiled at his mother.

"How progressive!" Lucy declared. Blythe whined and threw her toy down on the floor. Narcissa instinctively summoned it to her hand and Lucy stared at her in startled shock. Realizing her mistake, Narcissa gasped.

" _Confundo!_ " Draco coughed. Lucy shook her head in confusion. "Mother is quite quick isn't she? I've always wondered how she does it," he said as Narcissa handed the toy back to the young mother.

"I—wow! I wish I had such reflexes!"

"I was in the dueling club at school," said Narcissa. It wasn't a total untruth.

"Fencing! Amazing! Did you attend school with Mr. Snape as well?"

"I did. I was a few years ahead of him though. I believe he was in the same class as Harry's parents."

"Oh. Hey, Emma said her mum and Harry's were quite close growing up. If Harry's interested, I could maybe ask if her mother wouldn't mind you and Harry visiting. Maybe she has some photos or something."

"He might like that. I'll ask him tonight," said Draco. Blythe was whinging in earnest now, refusing the teething toy her mother offered.

"Well, I guess the park is out of the question now," said Lucy. "I think we'll just go have our morning nap. It was a pleasure to meet you, La—I mean, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Indeed." Narcissa nodded. Draco saw Lucy out and returned to the kitchen, where he sat across from his mother once more. "She's a pleasant girl, Draco. What does her husband do?" Narcissa asked.

"I'm not certain. I don't know if he ever said. He's a likeable enough bloke, however." Draco refreshened his tea. Narcissa nodded thoughtfully.

"They're not so very different are they?"

"Honestly, no, Mother. They seem to have the same ambitions and problems that we do—just without the benefit of magic. Some are poor, some are wealthy, some are quite content to be in the middle," he replied. Draco took a long sip of his tea.

"So, is this where you want to be, my son—in the middle—in the muggle world, on an ordinary street in an ordinary town?"

"I don't know, Mother. It's no longer just about me, is it? I have to take into account what Harry might want as well. We talked last night, and realized there is much that we must consider in order to grow our relationship. So much has happened so fast that we haven't had the opportunity to do what couples typically do when they're courting."

"And the girl?"

"Yes, there is Adrestia to think about as well. Harry is quite fond of her, as am I. We will not allow her to be hurt or taken for granted, but we will respect what she wishes."

"Do you love her, Draco?"

"I suppose—in my way." Draco traced the rim of his cup and Narcissa raised a brow. "I care very deeply for Tia, but it's not the same as Harry. She knows this. We have an understanding."

Narcissa let out a sigh. "Draco, when your father and I were betrothed, I wasn't particularly certain that I wanted to marry him. We had courted for a while, but it was our parents who orchestrated our relationship. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Abraxas had encouraged Lucius to call upon me and initiate the courtship. He'd always seemed to have eyes for Elvira Crouch when we were in school."

" _Goyle's_ mother?" Draco gave her an astonished look. She nodded.

"Which is why I was quite surprised the first time that he came to call. Then Mother and Father informed me that he would escort me to the Twenty-Eight ball. Your aunt Andromeda had married the muggleborn, and it fell to me to restore some semblance of honor. I had hoped that I would grow to love your father over time, and I was attracted to him. I think he might have felt some affection towards me early on, particularly during the period that I was expecting you, and immediately after you were born. He was ecstatic that his firstborn should be a male heir. Then, it just seemed the deeper he became involved with—" She let the implication hang in the air a moment.

"He simply changed, Draco. I was blind to it all myself; being a dutiful wife began to become my personality. As long as he spoiled me and you, I turned a blind eye to his dalliances—Alecto, Thicknesse's secretary, Bellatrix…" Draco gasped audibly at the mention of his aunt's name. "Oh, yes, I knew. I only turned to Severus because he was willing to listen. I hadn't intended it to be anything more, and then it was. I felt less stressed when I was with Severus. He understood my growing concern for our safety—yours especially."

"Did you tell him about—"

"No. It didn't come up until he mentioned to me that he thought you might be inclined towards other wizards. He didn't seem aware that your sole focus was Harry, and I was afraid to reveal that to him. Bella had taken to following me everywhere. She even came here with me on the night he vowed to protect you, and—" Narcissa stared into her cup. Draco reached out and took her hand.

"Draco, there was a time, not so long ago, when I would not dare hope that we would be alive to discuss your future. Even when I realized how you felt about Harry, I refused to believe that it would ever become reality. Our world was so fragile! Now that the war is over, I don't want to go back to the way things were. I am beginning to see things in a much different light. I want you to have the love that you deserve, Draco."

"But I _don't_ deserve Harry, Mother. He deserves so much better than me. Every day, I fear that he'll change his mind. That I'll find out it was all a dream, or we've both been duped by Amortentia. What will the public say when they find out about us? I'm afraid I'll _never_ be enough for Harry Potter."

"You _are_ enough for Harry, my son. Draco, in spite of it all, you are _still_ a Malfoy. Malfoys rise above every obstacle. Malfoys don't back down from a challenge. Harry is a smart boy, and it is clear that he can't be forced to do that which he isn't obligated to do. He didn't have to return your affections, but he did. He didn't have to take us in, but he did. Harry cares for you. Harry _chose_ you."


	38. Can You Hear Me Now?

Harry apparated into the back terrace and was pleasantly surprised by the transformation that had taken place since he'd last seen it the night before. Each corner of the walled-in area displayed ornate pots, each of which held a small ornamental witch hazel bush which would turn vibrant once autumn set in. Along the back wall, a long planter displayed colorful flowers, including nasturtium, valerian, and angelica archangelica. Two more planters flanked the entry, bursting with narcissus white lion blossoms and vibrant snapdragons. The plastic table had been transfigured into a mosaic-topped bistro table with a wrought iron base and matching chairs, and set off to the side in order to accommodate the modest fireplace which now adorned the side wall adjacent to it.

Harry carefully balanced the takeaway dinner on one arm and drew his wand with the other, opening the door and stepping into the sitting room.

"Honey, I'm home!" he sang as he made his way to the kitchen where he unburdened himself, setting down pizza boxes and bottles of lager.

"Hello, love! I've missed you!" Harry turned to find Draco clad in paint-spattered jeans and Quidditch jumper which read Quiberon in large block letters.

"Oh, _very nice!_ " Harry laughed, taking in the shocking pink color of the sweater. "I didn't know you supported the Quafflepunchers." He leaned in to accept the kiss that Draco planted on his cheek.

"Another joke gift from our dear Neville," Draco replied. As you can see, it clearly comes in handy when I don't wish to soil my fine clothing."

"Neville, yeah?" Harry chuckled. "I shall have to be sure to thank him. We really should invest in a camera. We can't keep allowing these priceless moments to slip past." Draco rolled his eyes and Harry gave him another kiss. "The terrace looks amazing! Narcissa's wand certainly has a way with flowers!"

"That she does. She's won national acclaim for her roses and umbrella plants. Professor Sprout says she was among her most gifted Herbology students—before our Neville came along. Wait until you see the window boxes out front."

"Brilliant! Well, I suppose we ought to tuck in before it gets cold. I've got one meat-lovers and one Margherita." Harry flicked his wand and the boxes opened. The beer bottles settled themselves around the table.

"You grab some plates while I go wash up and fetch Mother." Harry gave Draco a mock salute and went to the cupboard as Draco withdrew. He heard his footsteps on the stairs a few seconds later.

* * *

Narcissa leaned against the headboard of Severus' bed, with her feet tucked beneath her as she chatted with Preston Walcott. He'd seemed genuinely excited that she'd phoned him that morning, but he wasn't able to speak long because he was attending a special assembly at Morwenna's school. He'd rung her just as she was returning from a shower, after working in the garden and helping Draco to paint the other bedroom. She couldn't believe that he'd insisted upon doing it the muggle way, but she did find the chore rather relaxing in its quiet repetitiveness and it allowed the mother and son to continue their conversations about his future.

In their quiet moments, she mused about whether she would pursue something more than friendship with Preston, assuming that was his intent. She'd kept her phone tucked in the pocket of her dungarees, and occasionally patted it to ensure that it was still there, impatient for him to return her call. Draco had noticed this and asked if the coveralls were uncomfortable to her.

"Not at all! I think they're a novel idea. Look! There's even a pocket for my wand!" she indicated the slim pocket on the right leg—usually reserved for a ruler—into which she'd slipped the aspen and dragon heartstring wand. Draco chuckled and went back to carefully painting the moulding.

When Preston finally called, she'd anxiously fumbled the phone for several seconds, in her haste to answer. She smiled like a schoolgirl when she heard his voice. Narcissa tucked her damp hair behind her ear.

"Cokeworth! How did you end up there?" he asked.

"The boys are renovating Draco's godfather's home. They couldn't bear to see it sold after his passing. He'd been a teacher at their school."

"He must have been quite admired for them to undertake such a project. Will they be relocating then?"

"I'm not certain if they've made any plans in that regard. It's a simple terrace house, much smaller than their current accommodations in Islington. The neighborhood is currently undergoing redevelopment, so it might make for a profitable income property if they choose. Draco dragged me along just to get me out of the house for the day. You won't believe, I actually rode a motorbike!" she exclaimed with a giggle.

"Brilliant! Was it your first time?"

"It was. They've both got them. I was mortified to learn at first, but I suppose I'm not terribly surprised. My cousin Sirius was quite fond of the infernal machines as well. He was Harry's godfather. I suppose the passion rubbed off, and Harry restored Sirius' first bike."

"Sirius, Draco, Narcissa. You have such unique names!" Preston said.

"Yes. Our family is quite fond of astrological names. It's something of a tradition that's generations old. My father's name was Cygnus, and his father was Pollux."

"How very interesting! That's much more colorful than Preston to be sure. My parents were rather mortified to learn that our daughter would be named Morwenna. They are staunch Anglicans."

"I see," Narcissa was a bit confused. She wasn't entirely certain what an Anglican was, but apparently it was considered a better thing than something else.

"How about you? Catholic? Protestant? _Pagan?_ " he chuckled. "You don't have to answer that, honestly. Religion doesn't too much matter to me. I attend worship largely out of routine and obligation than a true adherent to its teachings. There are too many rules which tend to make the good into prejudiced hypocrites. If God is love, then how can we care more about tenets than about people? I believe one's destiny is determined solely by the way in which they treat others on this earth. The energy that we put out into the world always comes back to us magnified. If we do good works, we receive good in return. Talaitha used to say 'If you harm none, do what you will.'"

"The Rule of Three!" Narcissa exclaimed. She was ever more certain, the more that Preston spoke of his wife, that this woman was indeed a witch.

"You are familiar with it?" he asked.

"Quite. My mother taught it to us girls when we were very young. Some days I wish I had hearkened to it more. I might have saved myself a bit of heartache at this stage of my life."

"Well, if one ever wishes to learn from one's mistakes, simply keep living. You can't be the same fool twice," said Preston.

"That is a rather intriguing perspective. I shall have to bear that in mind." Narcissa absently twirled her hair about her finger as she spoke. She liked Preston. For a muggle, he seemed to think quite a lot like a wizard. Perhaps it was due to having been unwittingly married to a witch.

"So how long will you be away?" he asked.

"Oh, I expect that we shall likely return tomorrow sometime." Narcissa bit her lip. She hoped that his next question would be one that she wanted to hear.

"I see. Erm, I'm probably being forward again, but conversing with you has reminded me of how little opportunity I have for just comfortable adult conversation. Might I perhaps persuade you to join me for lunch the day after tomorrow could I? There's a splendid restaurant near Charing Cross I've been longing to visit."

There was a knock at the door. Narcissa jumped, dropping the phone.

"Mother!" Draco called from the other side of the door. "Harry has arrived with dinner!"

"Oh, erm! Yes, Draco. I'll be there momentarily. I'm just getting dressed!"

"Alright then!"

She quickly snatched up the phone and held it to her ear.

"Hello? Are you there?"

"Yes, erm—yes. I do apologize. My son was just informing me that dinner is ready. He startled me when he knocked and I dropped the phone. You were saying?"

"Oh, of course, well I shan't delay you. I was only asking if you have ever dined at The Ivy?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Well, then you're in for a treat!" he exclaimed.

"You're certain that I will say 'yes'."

"I sincerely hope so." Though she could not see him, Narcissa was sure that he was smiling.

"Well, far be it from me to disappoint," she laughed. "Shall I erm—ring you when I return to the city?" she asked.

"I shall look forward to it. Please don't let me keep you from your meal. I have so enjoyed talking to you, Narcissa. I'm pleased that you called me," said Preston

"I'm happy that you called back," she replied.

"Enjoy your evening."

"You too."

* * *

Draco eyed her suspiciously when she arrived in the kitchen a few minutes later. He smirked and lifted his beer bottle to his lips.

"Another meal without cutlery? One is beginning to wonder about these muggles," she said as she sat.

"I found it rather gauche at first, but apparently in America it is considered bad form to consume pizza with a knife and fork unless one is in Chicago." Draco reached for a slice of the pie, generously topped with pepperoni, salami, and Italian sausages. Harry took a slice of the other pizza, more lightly topped with plum tomatoes and basil. Narcissa watched as both young men commenced to fold their slices in half, supporting the large wedges with both hands, and eagerly took a bite, long strands of cheese extending as they pulled the food away. She resolutely shook her head before summoning a knife and fork from the drawer, daintily cutting into a slice of Margherita pizza.

"You know, your new muggle friend might enjoy pizza the traditional way," Draco said, rasing a brow as he dabbed at his lips. Narcissa set her silver down with a noticeable clatter.

"I-I beg your pardon?" She attempted to give her son a look of reproach, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her.

"Ah-ha! I thought I heard you talking to someone in there!" Draco accused. "You have a _phone!_ "

"Uh-oh, Narcissa," Harry gave her a wink. "Looks like you're nicked!"

"You _knew?_ " Draco gave Harry a look of shock.

"Well… I taught her how to use it." Harry rolled his eyes at Draco's appalled expression. "C'mon, love. It's not such a bad idea for her to learn more about the muggle world. You and I are spending an increasing amount of time in it ourselves. And remember, _you_ were the one who insisted that Tia take her on a muggle outing." Harry raised a brow and lifted his beer to his lips.

Draco pursed his lips before taking another swig of beer, "Touché." He took another large bite of pizza before he spoke again. "So, who is he, how did you meet him, and is this why we've taken such an interest in muggle clothing?"

"Ahem," Narcissa cleared her throat, pouring her beer into a glass. "His name is Preston Walcott. I met him at the erm—what do you call it—dance hall that Adrestia took me to the other night. We happened upon one another again at the newsstand up the avenue from Number Twelve. No, he is not the reason I have taken an interest in muggle clothing. I have simply discovered what I suppose muggleborns and you men have known all along—trousers are quite freeing and practical." She took a ladylike sip of beer, carefully setting her lager glass down, so as not to betray her shaking hand.

"I see," said Draco. He knew his mother was attempting to hide her nervousness. "Well, I do hope that I shall have the opportunity to meet this Preston Walcott soon." He gave her a smile.

"I concur. The Lady Malfoy cannot be seen in the company of just _any_ common muggle." Harry winked.

"He has asked me to lunch when we return to the city," she said. "The day after tomorrow."

"Where?" Draco asked.

"The Ivy, I believe he said." She cut into her slice. Draco looked at Harry.

" _The Ivy!_ " Harry said appreciatively. "Posh little spot. _I'd_ say he's off to a good start."

Draco pulled a face and sipped his beer. "So far." He tried to maintain his stern expression, but found it impossible, and grinned at Narcissa.

She smiled back and picked up her slice of pizza, folding it in half and taking a bite.


	39. Kreacher's Farewell

Preston Walcott felt his heart leap into his throat as he spied a dainty foot landing on the curb from the taxicab. His gaze traveled up the perfect legs to the wrap skirt that brushed her upper calves and the elegant rose-colored blouse that offered only the slightest hint of cleavage. A double-strand of pearls adorned a pale throat and matching studs perched on her earlobes. She looked different somehow. The honey undertones of her blonde tresses were gone, and the platinum was practically ethereal about her porcelain face.

"Narcissa?" he stepped forward tentatively.

"I know I appear to be extremely different. The hair colour was a glamour and the tan was artificial. My friend had persuaded me to do it. Honestly, it just wasn't me." She gave him a sheepish smile.

"I see. Well, I like it," Preston smiled back, not entirely sure what kind of colour rinse was called a glamour. "You remind me of a delicate china doll. Shall we?" He offered his arm and escorted her into the restaurant.

Narcissa forced herself not to stare at Preston. He was nearly a polar opposite of Lucius. Where her soon-to-be-ex-husband was as fair as she, Preston had a golden tone to his complexion. His features were soft, where Lucius' were angular, and his hair was a shade of sandy brown that accented the long bangs that he carelessly swept away from his face with a slight toss of his head.

He wore a grey, single breasted, three-button jacket in Prince of Wales flannel with light blue overcheck, matching single-breasted waistcoat featuring light grey bone buttons, and navy blue trousers. His silk tie was navy blue with grey pin dots. The bespoke tailored suit was drastically different from the flowing robes nearly all of the wizards with whom she was acquainted with wore, but Preston seemed to wear it with ease, as did the other suited gentlemen who happened to be lunching in the restaurant.

Narcissa was grateful to find that Adrestia had also returned that morning and happily helped her to create a modern ensemble that appeared to be right in keeping with the attire that most of the women attending the restaurant also wore.

Once they had given their meal orders, Preston asked Narcissa about her interests. She took a deep breath and decided to keep it simple, speaking of her love for horticulture and landscape design. She figured muggles had to have similar interests, right? As it happened, Preston's late wife also had a green thumb, though he described her gardens as free and full of exotic herbs, which although unbeknownst to him, Narcissa recognized as plants commonly used in potion making. She was now certain that Talaitha Walcott had been a witch, and wondered how she managed to keep her powers a secret from her husband, while still _clearly_ using magic around him.

"Goodness! I'm prattling on about Talaitha again. Do forgive me." He took a sip of wine.

"It's quite alright," she replied with a smile. "She seems to have been quite a lovely woman."

"Mm. Yes."

Their meals were served and they enjoyed them in companionable silence for a brief time.

"So, tell me about your husband. Whose idea was it to separate, yours or his? I mean, if you don't mean me asking. I don't wish to pry."

"Well, it _is_ a bit complicated and messy," Narcissa sipped her wine and contemplated how much she could reveal without telling her secret. "I left him."

"Unfaithful, was he?"

"Oh, you could say that. Our marriage was arranged, it's been done that way in both of our families for generations. I suppose, for a time there was something between us, but again, it wasn't uncommon in both of our families for spouses to take another partner. I just hadn't quite expected Lucius to take on so _many_ partners—particularly not my sister."

"Oh my!"

"I suppose the final straw was the way in which he attempted to force my son into an unwanted betrothal."

"He doesn't approve of your son's sexuality?"

"Well, I'm not certain whether he even was aware, or he just didn't care one way or another. He only wanted to merge the two families for personal reasons. I tried to persuade him to allow Draco to have a love match, or do what he wanted regarding his relationships. As far as I knew, my son was still quite single, but I knew he wasn't interested in the girl. When neither of us could sway him, Draco withdrew his trust fund and ran off. There was no contact, and I had no idea where he was until he turned up with Harry one day. Regardless of how Lucius might feel about Draco's physical inclinations, he absolutely would not approve of Harry."

"Really?"

"I believe the enmity goes back to the boy's father." It wasn't a total lie. Narcissa recalled at least one incident before Voldemort's first fall, in which James Potter had engaged Lucius in a rather protracted and vicious duel.

"Well, I can see how that would be problematic."

"Lucius could be rather…single-minded in his interpersonal relationships. He didn't deign to engage others unless there was some benefit to him. He also…tends to go to extreme measures to obtain his objectives, often at the expense of others."

Preston's gaze hardened. Narcissa bit her lip. She'd said too much. How could she explain what Lucius had done? She steeled herself for him to ask the inevitable, but she was unprepared for Preston to reach across the table and take her hand.

"You are incredible. It takes a very strong person to endure a spouse like that, while still protecting yourself and child. I admire the courage it must have taken for you to decide that enough is enough."

"I suppose he didn't make it that difficult for me to decide." Narcissa grimaced.

"Well, his loss is our gain. I am very glad that I ordered that glass of absinthe, and perhaps I am also happy that I decided to choose that particular newsstand for my morning paper." Preston smiled. Narcissa averted her eyes and smiled shyly. She felt like a teenager again.

"Me too."

* * *

"The Honourable, the Chief Warlock and the Archontes of the Wizengamot of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain. Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All persons having business before the Honorable, the Wizengamot of the Ministry of Magic of Great Britain, are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Assembly is now sitting. Gods save the Ministry and this Honourable Body." The Grammateus called the assembly to order and took his seat just below the podium to begin recording the proceedings, a charmed quill poised above a thick roll of parchment.

Harry took a seat in a row a few yards away from the bench, and scanned the room. The doors opened and two guards led Lucius into the dock. His expression was stony and attempted to appear dignified and unperturbed, but his discomfort was evident. His robes hung awkwardly, due to his missing arm, and his remaining hand twitched occasionally, as if he was attempting to clasp his hands. He did not look up at the assembly or the gallery, but fixed his eyes upon the high podium in front of him.

The Chief Warlock banged his gavel, "I hereby declare this court session open, and defer to the Polemarch of record, Archon Eustace Fawley." He stepped aside and Eustace Fawley took the podium.

"Will the Grammateus please read the indictment." He looked down at the wizard below him who stood. His quill scratched away as he unfurled a parchment and began to read.

"Lucius Malfoy of Wiltshire, England, you are hereby charged with the following offences. Count One: Use of an Unforgivable Curse, acts of magic prohibited by the Wizengamot Decree of 1717. Count Two: Grievous Bodily Harm to another person. Count Three: Possession of unregulated Dark Potions. Count Four: Attempted bribery of a Ministry Official." The grammateus returned to his seat.

"You have heard the charges against you, Mr. Malfoy. How do you plead?" the Polemarch asked. Lucius gave his characteristic toss of his hair, lifting his chin and meeting his gaze.

"Not guilty," he declared.

A murmur rippled through the chamber and dozens of flashbulbs popped and strobed as the press photographers snapped away. Harry scowled.

"Order!" Fawley declared. The room quieted quickly. "Very well. You shall be remanded to the Ministry catacombs without bond. Trial will commence three days hence. Ballivis." He beckoned the guards forward, and they escorted Lucius from the chamber. The moment the Chief Warlock adjourned the proceedings, the reporters dashed for the exits, clamoring to be first in the lifts.

* * *

"Draco… _Draco._ " Adrestia left her perch on the window seat of the library and crossed to the wing-back chair beside the fireplace where Draco sat, staring absently into the glowing coals.

"Hm? What was that?" he looked up, when she knelt in front of him.

"Kreacher asked if you would like scones or biscuits with your tea." She nodded towards the elf, who waited patiently near the door.

"Oh, erm, digestives are fine, Kreacher." He waved dismissively, and Kreacher withdrew.

"Hey. You know everything's going to be fine, don't you?" she said, placing a hand on his knee.

"No, I don't. Lucius has gotten off, he's escaped from prison, and last time, even received an official pardon secured by Harry himself."

"But this time _Harry_ is the one who arrested him. They have your memory which contains his confession."

"I know you're right, but still. I just can't help but worry." Draco smoothed a hand over her hair, and she rested her head in his lap.

Harry stepped out of the fireplace at the same moment that Narcissa apparated onto the garden terrace and strolled through the open doors. Her relaxed smile turned into a restive expression as she noticed Draco and Adrestia getting to their feet expectantly.

"He pled 'not guilty' to all four counts," said Harry. Draco gave his mother a worried look, taking a step towards her. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

"I'm fine. It would have been folly to expect him to do the honourable thing at this point."

"The trial begins in three days. You'll both likely receive a summons tomorrow."

Suddenly, there was a crash just outside the room and Mrs. Black began to scream down the heavens. The witches and wizards all spun, wands out. Harry held up a hand to keep the others at bay and flicked his wand.

" _Hominem Revelio!"_ he whispered. He crept quietly to the closed doors where he could just hear the tinkle of broken glass and faint moaning above the screams of the woman in the portrait, coming from the hall beyond.

There was no response. The others huddled against the wall on either side of the entry, wands at the ready, as Harry waved his wand and the doors to the room slid open. "Oh!" Harry breathed, lowering his wand as he stared into the corridor.

"What is it?" Draco asked, cautiously moving forward and looking out of the room. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed in a whisper.

Kreacher lay amongst a mess of broken china, crushed biscuits and spilt tea. The old elf feebly tried to lift his head and slowly rubbed his fingertips together, attempting to snap them. The broken pieces of china rattled in response.

"Auntie, _please!_ There's been an accident!" Narcissa snapped. The portrait quieted.

"Kreacher?" Harry stepped into the passage, broken porcelain crunching beneath his feet. He crouched beside the elf. Kreacher turned weary eyes to Harry.

"Please…forgive…Kreacher…" he whispered breathlessly. "Kreacher has…Master Harry's tea is…"

"Don't worry about that, Kreacher. Are you ill?" Harry looked over him for signs of injury.

"Kreacher's…head…" he began.

"Does your head hurt?" Kreacher slowly turned his head and gazed up at the staircase.

"It…it is time…" he panted. "Kreacher's head…will join…his…forebears." Kreacher sighed and his large eyes fluttered closed.

"Kreacher?" Harry touched the old elf's wrinkled hand, giving it a squeeze. There was no response, and he let out a heavy sigh. Draco knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "He seemed so much better today. Like his old self."

"He was old, my love. I've never seen a house elf who'd lived for so long."

Harry gingerly lifted Kreacher into his arms and carried him down to the kitchen where he summoned a clean towel from the scullery and shrouded the dead house elf in it.

"You aren't actually going to cut off his head are you?" Adrestia asked, a worried look on her face.

"No. I know that's what he expected, but it's barbaric. I suppose I shall bury him like Dobby."

"Dobby is _dead?"_ Narcissa asked incredulously. "You _buried_ Dobby?"

"Well, what do _you_ do when your house elves die?" Harry looked from the elf laid out on the table to the older witch.

"Well, I—I've never had an elf to die. I mean, given that Dobby was not in our service or presence…"

"Kreacher was devoted to the House of Black, even with his faults. I left those awful heads on the wall to appease him. He seemed to like the southeast corner of the garden below the flutterby bushes. I think they should all be buried together."

Less than half an hour later, they stood beside a small hole in the garden where Harry and Draco pointed their wands to lower an old humidor they'd found among the pilfered items in Kreacher's cupboard, bearing the Black family crest on its lid. It had been transfigured and expanded to hold the old elf and the remains of his ancestors. They gently returned the earth to its place on top of it and Adrestia conjured a brass plaque to mark the location. It read simply: _Kreacher—Faithful Servant._


	40. Of Mice and Men

_But, Mousie, thou art no thy-lane, in proving foresight may be vain; The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley…_

* * *

The early evening was a somber one. Harry sent an owl to Ron, telling him about Kreacher's death. They'd cleaned the mess in the hallway, and Harry and Draco had managed to pull together a meal from the cooking that Kreacher had already begun. After a quiet repast of fricassee of chicken, they all retired to the drawing room. Narcissa curled up on the divan with a novel. Adrestia sat at the piano, playing a soft melody, and Harry rested against Draco's chest as they reclined on the sofa and perused the latest issue of _Seeker Weekly._ There was a soft gong before the fireplace flared with green flames and Molly Weasley stepped out, holding a covered dish.

"Oh, Harry! I heard about Kreacher and—" She stopped short, taking in the scene before her. Ron and Hermione rushed out of the fireplace and nearly pushed her over.

"Mum, I told you that—"

"Narcissa? Draco?" Molly looked at the Malfoys in startled confusion as Harry and Draco abruptly sat up and Narcissa closed her book. Adrestia looked on anxiously from her place at the piano. Behind Molly, Ron wore a look of sheepish contrition and Hermione's eyes were wide with a mixture of surprise and humor. "Harry, what is going on here?" Molly asked.

Harry and Draco exchanged looks. Draco gave him a defeated shrug, and Harry turned back to the Weasleys and Hermione. He raked his fingers through his hair and let out a sigh.

"I think perhaps we should call everyone over," he said.

Several minutes later, the drawing room was filled with Weasleys, as well as Dean, Seamus and Neville. Harry and Draco glossed over the less-than-vanilla aspects of their relationship and only mentioned that Adrestia was a very close friend and personal assistant to Draco. It was not a complete fabrication, but they knew telling the entire truth would only serve to complicate matters more than necessary.

"I _knew_ it!" George exclaimed. "I always said the way Malfoy and Harry were always having a go at one another; they would probably end up shagging one day! Pay up, Bill!" Harry's mouth dropped open in shock as he watched Bill reluctantly drop a number of gold coins into his brother's hand.

"Unbelievable!" Draco shook his head.

"Ginny, I—" Harry began. She held up her hand.

"Draco, do you mind if I have a word in private?" She stood.

"Erm, well, I suppose." He led her downstairs to the library where they closed the doors and cast a privacy spell.

* * *

Ginny paced a moment before settling herself on the window seat and looking out at the garden. Were he not so nervous, Draco might have commented on how the inviting bench always seemed to draw people to it when searching for the right words. Instead, he assumed what he hoped was a neutral stance. He didn't want Harry's ex to think that he harbored any animosity towards her. She continued to gaze out of the window as she began to speak.

"Draco, I don't know if I can ever forgive your father for what he did to me," she said.

Draco swallowed hard. He knew that she was referring to her first year at Hogwarts, and his and Harry's second year. That was when Lucius had slipped Voldemort's cursed diary in with her books. When she'd unknowingly begun to use it, Ginny became possessed and the Dark Lord used her to open the Chamber of Secrets, unleashing a terrifying basilisk which had petrified Colin Creevy and Hermione, as well as Filch's cat and the ghost, Sir Nicholas.

Ginny herself had become trapped in the Chamber until Harry came to her rescue.

"I nearly died because of that diary. So did Harry."

"Ginevra, I—" She didn't give him an opportunity to continue.

"Wait. I don't know what Harry sees in you now, but whatever it is has had a profound effect upon him." Ginny stood, her gaze direct. "I ended things with Harry because I could tell that although he loves me, the romance was gone. Something had shifted with us both. I was no longer the infatuated little girl either. We were only going through the motions, and I suspected that maybe he didn't actually fancy women at all. When it was over, I could see the relief in his eyes. If I'm to believe what I have seen and heard recently, Harry has finally found true love. I hope you realize how important that is to him. He doesn't trust easily and he has had a great deal of disappointment in his life Draco. I don't have to tell youwhat would happen if you were to hurt him."

She twirled her wand visibly to punctuate her point. Draco shifted from one foot to another, and crossed his arms.

"Harry does not own the patent on pain and disappointment, Ginny. I'm certain that I don't have to tell you what it feels like to have the object of your desire so near and yet so unattainable. I can tell you that there is no heartache like knowing that you can never confess your true feelings to anyone, because to do so might ultimately destroy you both, and bring about the end of society as we know it. There is no more powerless feeling in the world like hearing your own father plotting the demise of the one you love most, and thinking that there's nothing you can do to protect him. You weren't the only one who was shattered when they carried Harry's body out of the forest on that day.

"You don't have to forgive my father. I don't _want_ you to forgive my father. I am him in looks and name only. I only ask that you come to know the Draco Malfoy that I have become. The one he introduced to riding a muggle motorbike. The one who has a weakness for milk chocolate and reading novels in bed. The one who learned to survive a muggle dinner party where we ate from paper plates with plastic cutlery. I want you to get to know the Draco Malfoy who has a ferret named Moody that was given to him by Neville Longbottom, the Gryffindor who has been his best mate for over a year now."

Ginny's eyes widened at his pronouncement. He winked at her before steeling his gaze again.

"I love Harry Potter. I have loved him from the first day I laid eyes on him, and I'll die before I allow anyone or anything _ever_ hurt him again."

* * *

The room fell silent when Ginny and Draco returned. All eyes were on Harry's former and present love interests.

"Oh, there is one other thing, Draco," she said. George nudged his father.

"She called him Draco," he whispered. Arthur nodded.

"When you become a part of Harry Potter's life, you become a part of the Weasley clan. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it." She went to stand beside Ron. Draco gazed warily at the band of redheads gathered around Harry. He looked upon his love, who gave him a reassuring nod. He pursed his lips.

"Does that include Mother?" he asked. A nervous murmur rose up from the Weasley siblings. Arthur admonished them with a look.

"If Narcissa will have us," he said. "About Lucius—"

"I am not concerned with Lucius' opinion right now, nor is Mother," said Draco, coolly. "I think you are aware that he has more pressing matters to deal with at the moment."

"Is it really true?" Hermione asked. "I mean the potion that he used? Oh, goodness! That was so insensitive of me! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Malfoy—it's just that Ron said—" She blushed deeply. Harry gave Ron a reproachful look. Ron shrugged apologetically.

"It will all become public record soon enough," said Draco. He sat down next to Narcissa and gave her hand a squeeze. She patted his with her other hand.

"That is true, but it is imperative that none of you breathe a single word of what you know to anyone. We don't want to adversely affect the outcome of the trial."

Harry, Draco and Narcissa gave them the basics of what Lucius had done and recounted the duel at Malfoy Manor.

"A _Blood Betrothal!"_ Arthur exclaimed, aghast. "My gods! That sort of thing had fallen out of vogue decades ago!"

"Dozens of young witches and wizards used to run away from home and elope just to avoid signing," said Molly. She served fresh tea and biscuits.

"Andromeda eloped with Edward in order to avoid the Blood Betrothal that Father had brokered between her and Cephas Avery," said Narcissa. Draco gave his mother a flabbergasted stare.

"Mother! Did—"

"Mother and Father had hoped to force Andromeda's hand, because they disapproved of her courtship with Edward I think you are _more than aware_ that your father and I had no such marriage contract." Narcissa assured her son. "Nor did Bellatrix," she muttered.

"You _knew?_ " he whispered.

"Bellatrix always had a malicious streak about her, and when she was young, she got away with the evil things that she did because of her charm and the ease with which she was able to lie. Marrying Rodolphus only made things worse, and by the time they escaped Azkaban, she was truly demented. She did it to spite me because she suspected I was not fully committed to The Dark Lord's cause. But as your father made costly mistakes, The Dark Lord's side became infinitely more enticing to her." Narcissa scowled and Draco felt ill.

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked, noting the change in their demeanors.

"It's fine, love. Just that some of this talk has brought to the surface memories one would prefer to have stayed behind us."

Harry moved to sit beside him and took his hand. Draco gave Harry's hand a squeeze and smiled at him.

"Does Lucius know about the two of you?" Bill asked.

"Oh, yes! I made cock sure of that!" Draco gave a wry grin. Harry gave him a nudge. George snickered.

"I can't wait to see the headline when this comes out. _The Golden Boy Lifts Shirt for Death Eater!_ " he laughed.

"George!" Molly admonished.

"You are absolutely right, Mum." George's face was sober. "Forgive me, Harry." He grinned wickedly. "We all know it's Malfoy who's lifting his shirt!" he snickered and gave Draco a wink.

"Are you _flirting_ with me, Weasley?" Draco teased. George choked on his tea.

"Go get your own!" Harry added. Dean and Seamus were leaning on one another as they doubled over in laughter.

"Harry, Draco, seriously, how do you plan to deal with the press. You know that Rita Skeeter has been chomping at the bit for some new scandal with your name on it. She's likely been salivating ever since the news broke that you arrested Lucius. Is there any possibility that he could try to use that against you?"

"Probably. He wanted Draco to marry a girl he'd chosen. Draco left. Now, he's returned with me. Today's Prophet has already begun to question my investigation, hinting that I might have some sort of vendetta against Lucius."

"Despite the fact that you spoke on our behalf during the war tribunal?" Narcissa asked.

"It's the prophet Narcissa. You know how they operate. It doesn't have to make sense, it only has to sell papers," said Harry. She pursed her lips. A high-pitched ringtone sounded causing several of the Weasleys to jump. Harry, Draco, and Hermione immediately checked their pockets. Narcissa reached over to retrieve her mobile phone from the side table with a shy smile.

"Excuse me," she said, getting to her feet. She placed the phone to her ear as she stepped out of the room. "Hello? …Hi!" She disappeared down the corridor.

The Weasleys stared at her, agog. "Erm, Molly, was the tea we had fresh?" asked Hermione. "Because I think I just saw Narcissa Malfoy walk out of here speaking on a mobile phone."

"I did happen to notice that she was wearing muggle clothing as well." They looked at Harry and Draco.

"Well, living abroad has had quite an effect on me," said Draco. "I've learned quite a lot during my time in America."

"Oh, so _that's_ where you've been?"

"I have a home and a lucrative business in Boston, Massachusetts."

" _Really?_ " Arthur made an appreciative face.

"Draco's firm caters to mages and muggles," said Harry. A curious and surprised murmur went up around the room, and Arthur launched into a lengthy interrogation about American muggles.

* * *

Narcissa sauntered into the kitchen with a broad smile on her face. She had hoped that Preston would ring her.

"I wanted to let you know how much I enjoyed our lunch today," he said.

"As did I," Narcissa replied, taking a seat at the table.

"I hope you can forgive me for talking so much about my wife."

"It's quite alright. It is clear that you loved her dearly."

"I suppose I should have asked if I was interrupting anything. It is the dinner hour."

"Oh, no, you're not interrupting. We decided to forego dinner this evening and had a late tea. Harry lost one of his erm—pets, and was feeling a bit down. He has a few friends over visiting now."

"Oh, it must have been a special pet. Dog?"

"Erm—yes. The boys have a few pets actually. It's interesting that I didn't think of it before—you mentioned that your wife had an owl. The boys have an aviary themselves, with two beautiful raptors."

"Really? What an amazing coincidence! Morwenna had always helped Talaitha care for Albus—that's the owl's name—so we've kept him. He goes away quite a lot, sometimes for a day or two. It's the most curious thing. I've wondered if he still hunts for prey. Since he always returns, I don't find myself too bothered about it. He's a peculiar bird. I thought he was stealing people's post, as I was always finding curious little letters out in the garden near his roost! Then I discovered that they were letters to Morwenna! I didn't know that she had pen friends." Preston chuckled. Narcissa laughed nervously.

"Perhaps Albus is a post owl, delivering Morwenna's missives to her faraway friends," she suggested. Preston laughed louder.

"That's exactly what _she_ said. 'Daddy, Albus takes letters to my friends, and delivers their letters to me. Mummy said that's what post owls do!' I'd hate to disabuse her of the notion. She will only have so many precious memories of Laittie. I picked up the letters and slipped them in the post myself when she wasn't looking. Apparently, she's been writing a girl in Devon and another in Ireland. Quite some flights of fancy these young ones have! They've imagined a most fantastic world, filled with wizards and witches—of a very friendly sort, mind you—they speak of games called, erm, oh yes—quid-quidditch, and _real_ dragons and a way to travel to one another's homes by fireplace! It's quite elaborate and endearing actually. They make it sound so real!"

"Oh, my!" Narcissa's voice was hoarse and she summoned a glass of water to soothe her suddenly dry throat.

"I don't read all of my daughter's mail, mind you. I only took a peek when I first learned that she was receiving post. I wanted to be sure that she wasn't receiving letters from some nutter. It has begun to become less common to receive correspondence by regular post these days, so it seemed rather odd to me—you know with email and online chat and what-not."

"I'm sure it's harmless, though maybe not the dragons," said Narcissa. Preston laughed heartily. "Who knows, she might even have the opportunity to meet her friends someday."

"Yes, perhaps. In the meantime, she's rather keen to meet _you._ I understand if you feel that it is too soon," he said. "It's only that she overheard ups chatting the other night and says that no one has ever made me smile like I used to until you called."

"Goodness! She's a perceptive one, isn't she? Erm, I suppose it couldn't hurt." Narcissa thought she might assure herself once and for all whether the girl was truly a witch, as all of the evidence seemed to indicate.

"The proceedings with my husband begin in a few days. I don't know how long that will take, but perhaps I can let you know when my schedule clears?"

"Oh, please do!" He paused, thoughtfully. "Narcissa, if you should simply need somone to talk to, I'm here. I can imagine that this is a stressful time for you. I know that you have your son, but if you just want someone who isn't directly involved or just want to, erm, get away from it all…" he trailed off.

"Thank you, Preston. That's very thoughtful of you."

"I, erm…I like you, Narcissa. You remind me a bit of Laittie."

"Oh, I'm flattered. Really."

"Well, I hope that—what's that, love?" His voice faded from the phone as he spoke to somone who was with him. "Alright. I'll be right there—I'm sorry. _Someone,_ is having difficulty with their assignment for maths."

"I completely understand."

"May I ring you later—if the hour isn't too late?"

"Of course. I look forward to it." They ended the call and Narcissa remained at the table smiling thoughtfully. Molly entered presently, levitating the tea service ahead of her.

* * *

"Alright, Narcissa?" Molly asked. She sent the china to the sink and flicked her wand to fill it with soap and water.

"Erm, yes, Molly. Thank you." She sipped her water. Molly approached the table.

"May I?" she gestured to the chair opposite. Narcissa nodded. "Uncle Ignatius has decided to leave Cambridge and return to the house on Prewett Lane."

"Oh? I hadn't heard. Do you speak with him often?" Narcissa asked. Ignatius Prewett was married to Sirius' aunt Lucretia Black, effectively making the two witches sitting at the table relatives. The Black family tree had branches that spread far and wide, even encompassing Arthur's family, though his mother had been disowned for marrying a blood-traitor Weasley. Molly's own ideas towards muggles and her ultimate marriage to Arthur ensured that she and Narcissa were never close beyond their childhoods.

"He sends an owl every now and again." Molly fingered the tea towel that was neatly folded on the table.

"You know, Molly, I don't believe we have shared a table since we were very young girls," said Narcissa. "Do you remember that yule? I think I must have been six years old!"

"I was nine," Molly replied with a smile. "You had green velvet robes embroidered around the collar with holly."

"And yours were the brightest winter white with silver snowflakes on the sleeves. I was insanely jealous. Then Bellatrix told me that I was too fair to wear white. I think I cried in a corner the rest of the night."

"No you didn't. When the puppet show began, you perked right up and demanded Fabian and Gideon sit with you, because your father said that _you_ were a princess, and every princess needed footmen." Molly laughed, and Narcissa joined in.

"Goodness! You have quite a long memory! I do remember now. They were ever so patient with me." Her smile faded into an apologetic expression as she met Molly's eyes. The redheaded witch held up a conciliating hand and shook her head slightly. They were both silent a moment, each lost in regrets of the wars, the first of which claimed Molly's brothers.

"So, Draco tells us that you have been getting to know a muggle gentleman."

"I have. Draco had the girl, Adrestia, take me out one evening recently. He said that it was high time I learned about the outside world."

Molly let out a gasp, "Really? That must have been exciting!"

"Oh, I was terrified!" Narcissa pressed a hand to her chest. "I actually wore _trousers!_ " She whispered the last word as if it were a profanity.

"No!" Molly exclaimed. "What was it like?" She leaned forward.

"It was surprising actually. We visited a…what did she call it—oh, yes, a fast food restaurant—not far from the Leaky Cauldron. We ate hamburger sandwiches and French chips with our hands! They were quite tasty! Then we visited a dance hall. The music was amazingly loud, and they danced like house elves drunk from butterbeer!" Narcissa laughed and Molly joined in. "I met Preston there. He was ordering a glass of absinthe."

"Absinthe! Gracious!"

"He laughed when I told him that it would give him hallucinations. Apparently, it doesn't quite have the same effect on muggles."

"How interesting! So, how did you come to own one of those phone things? Harry and Hermione have one, and they're always chatting into them. Do they work like floo calls?"

"I think so. Harry taught me to use it. I was too nervous to ask Draco, for he has one as well. Anyway, after that night, I was curious. Wearing trousers did feel soo freeing! I mean, Molly, think of it! No cumbersome skirts to constantly lift and worry about getting too close to the fireplace! They're so much lighter! I was standing at the drawing room window, watching the muggles going about their business, and I wanted to see a little more. So, I transfigured myself a new outfit and ventured down the lane, where I came upon a newsstand. The muggles have these glossy magazines _filled_ with pictures of interesting clothes! I bought one—well, actually I stole it." She shrugged mischievously. "You see, I hadn't realized until too late that the only money I had was galleons! So, I confounded the owner of the stall and suggested that I'd already paid him! It's one of the very few spells I can perform without a wand," she giggled. "I was about to leave when there he was!"

Molly gasped.

"He asked me to join him for coffee where he asked for my number. I told him that I didn't know Harry's number, so he gave me his. I decided to take a chance and found a shop where they sold the mobile phones like I had seen Harry and Draco using."

"How bold!" Molly declared.

"You think so?" Narcissa turned her empty water glass between her hands.

"Oh, yes! It was very _brave,_ Narcissa! We know so little about the muggle world, yet you went _out there!_ On your _own!_ "

"You've done it dozens of times," said Narcissa.

"No, I haven't actually. Besides taking the children to King's Cross, and the summer of ninety-four when we went to pick up Harry from his Aunt and Uncle's house, but even then we went by floo. _That_ was something of a disaster. No, Narcissa, I've never actually _been_ _in_ the muggle world." Molly shook her head, a slightly wistful look crossed her face for a moment before she smiled warmly. "So, tell me more about this man!"

"Well, his name is Preston. He seems to come from a fine family. He mentioned that his father held a seat on the House of Lords. So, I assume he's a member of the Peerage."

"Hm!"

"He has a young daughter who's about to turn eleven."

"Really? Is he divorced then?"

"He's a widow." Narcissa studied a long scratch in the tabletop. "His wife Talaitha was killed when the Death Eaters destroyed the bridge in…" She bit her lip. Molly patted hand. Narcissa's voice was soft when she spoke again. "Molly, I think—I think she was a witch."

"A witch? How do you know?"

"When he told me about her, he said that when they first met, she lived in a house with no electric devices. She wore robes, grew herbs for potions. He even told me about a time she gave him Calming Draught. Molly, she had an owl named— _Albus_."

Molly stared at Narcissa.

"They still have the owl. He says his daughter writes to other girls who have told her about dragons, and floo travel and quidditch. He thinks it's all make-believe, but the owl is delivering her letters. He's seen her use magic, but he thinks it's all in his head, and that his eyes are playing tricks on him. What if she _is_ a witch, Molly? She'll be getting her Hogwarts letter any day now, and then he'll learn everything!" Narcissa sighed heavily.

"You really are enamored with this gentleman, aren't you?"

"I—well, it's all so new. It hasn't been very long either…but I don't think I've ever had feelings like this before."

"Not even with Lucius?" Molly asked. Narcissa shook her head regretfully.

"Not right from the outset. Although I knew Lucius, ours had always been an arrangement. He may have had some interest in me, but I was not initially attracted to him. Preston—I don't know. I suppose it's just the natural and honest way in which he speaks to me. He doesn't measure his words, and clearly he isn't acting out of some duty that he's been tasked with fulfilling."

"Yes. That's infatuation indeed."

"I simply don't know what to do!" Narcissa exclaimed.

"Narcissa, calm down, dear." Molly gave her hand a squeeze. "You're getting yourself worked up, and it may be nothing. You're not the first witch to find herself falling for a muggle, and you won't be the last. Just let things happen naturally. There is no use worrying oneself over the things that we can't change. This is a wonderful opportunity that you have been given. Make the most of it—whatever happens."

"I suppose you're right." Narcissa sighed. "Molly, I—it's been quite some time since we were proper cousins. I regret that. I regret all of the years of animosity, and the horrible way in which Lucius—"

"Our children live, and we celebrate a world of peace that is a tangible reality that we have been gifted. There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind, Narcissa. Look to them. Don't lose yourself searching for and clinging to that which is now dust." Molly smiled gently and patted Narcissa's hand. "If you should ever want to talk, I'm only a floo call away."

"Thank you, Molly."

"Always."


	41. Knocks Me Off My Feet

"Where are you going?" Harry asked as he approached the landing, where Adrestia had just stepped out of their bedroom.

"I'm going to sleep in this room tonight," she replied, leaning against the banister as he approached.

"Why?"

"You and Pravus need some alone time. Honestly, I don't mind."

"I missed you when you were with Neville. It's awkward without you in my arms." Harry wrapped his arm around her waist when he reached the landing, and pulled her close. She brushed her lips over his.

"You really missed me?"

"I did. I've grown used to our thing, the three of us." He nipped at her bottom lip and she rocked her hips forward, urging his manhood to life. Harry let out a soft moan. He kissed her more fully and began to back her across the landing towards the room that had once belonged to Regulus Black. He pinned her against the closed door and palmed one breast while he pulled on the ribbon tie that held her silk dressing gown together. Harry slipped his hand between her thighs.

"Your panties are drenched!" he murmured. She felt his lips curve into a smile as he kissed along her neck. Harry nudged her legs apart with his knee. She shifted her weight, leaning against the door and lifted one leg to his hip. He grabbed her thigh and began to grind his hips into hers. She whimpered softly, gripping a fistful of his hair. Harry unzipped his trousers and freed his aching cock.

Adrestia sucked on his earlobe and Harry moaned again, his voice low and gravelly. He pushed aside her panties and slid his prick into her with a rough shove that made the heavy door rattle in its frame.

"Unh!" She stifled a cry and rose up on her toes.

"Fuck!" Harry whispered as he rolled his hips, driving into her hot cunt. "You feel so fucking good!" His fingers dug into the flesh of her leg as he gripped it, the bedroom door behind her thumping an insistent rhythm as they leaned against it.

Narcissa paused on the staircase, tilting her head. A steady thumping sound reverberated from above. She crept quietly to the third floor landing. The thumping became louder and more insistent, accompanied by soft moans and whimpers. She disillusioned herself and moved stealthily up the stairs toward the source of the noise.

"Oh, my god, Harry! Yes! Mmm! Yess!"

"Shit! Tia! Merlin!"

Narcissa covered her mouth to stifle the gasp that rose from her throat when she looked up, a few steps below the fourth floor landing, and her eyes fell upon Harry, fucking Adrestia against the door of Regulus' bedroom. Her eyes narrowed. She was certain that Draco had already gone up to bed, and she knew that he and Harry had been sleeping in Sirius' old room. Were they truly so bold as to engage in such behavior just steps away from where her son lay?

Narcissa quietly withdrew, vacillating between anger and confusion. Draco had referred to the girl as his consort. On more than one occasion she had encountered them in intimate conversation, their gestures and looks less than platonic. Had Narcissa ignored the same behavior between Adrestia and Harry? It seemed to her that most often Harry was either alone or in the company of her son, sharing a look or allowing a touch to linger. What did it all mean? Draco had said that he was in love with Harry, and at some point, she was certain that something had changed between them, indicating that Harry must surely have professed the same to Draco.

Narcissa sat at the vanity brushing her hair and pondering the apparent love triangle that was going on a few feet above her. She didn't want to see Draco get hurt, and she would go to any lengths to ensure it.

* * *

Draco sprawled on the bed like a model from a magazine, facing the door, propped on one elbow, his leg bent at the knee.

"I sincerely hope that you haven't spent all of your energy screwing our Tia into the wall out there," he said when Harry entered the room.

"I couldn't resist. She just looked so amazingly fuckable," replied Harry as he stripped off his clothes and climbed onto the bed, straddling Draco. "Wanna lick me clean?"

Draco grabbed Harry and rolled, flipping him onto his back, and pinning him against the plush bedclothes.

"No. I want to make you even dirtier," he grinned wickedly and lowered his head to scrape his teeth over Harry's shoulder. "You just can't help being naughty can you? I'm certain that Mother heard you this time."

"Do you think so?" Harry's expression flickered between embarrassment and excitement.

"The woman could hear a house elf drop a china cup in the kitchen all the way from her suite on the third floor of Malfoy Manor!" He rolled his hips down to Harry's. Harry responded, arcing up to him.

"Tell me, love. How do you really feel about Adrestia?" asked Harry. He shifted, but Draco held him pinned tightly.

"What is this all about, Harry?"

"Well, this situation is very different. You know that Lucius is going to bring up our relationship in the trial, and it will be all over the press. How will we handle it?"

"Lucius doesn't know that there is a connection between us and Tia."

"No, he doesn't, but the Assembly might ask who he paid to find you. It's in your memory. They will want to know how you were persuaded to come back home. How will we answer it?"

"Harry, how do _you_ feel about Tia?" Draco asked.

"She's a lovely girl. I'm attracted to her, and it's quite clear that she is devoted to you—"

"She cares about you as well, Harry. Adrestia isn't some slag who's happy to be passed around. She's not a whore. If that were the case, she'd have had no qualms about actually shagging Lucius in order to get what we needed from him. I haven't pressed the issue of a relationship with her because she wears Neville's collar; she has affection for him too, and she has known all along that you are the one who genuinely holds my heart. I suppose it should truly be her decision to declare what she wants from _us._ " Draco leaned down and gave Harry a soft kiss. "As for the trial and the press, we follow what is revealed. If it comes out that we are in a relationship, will we deny it?"

"I've never backed down from the press," said Harry.

"Good." Draco kissed him again. "Now, are you going to make love to me or not?"

"You'll have to get off of me if that's what you want, Sir." Harry smirked. Draco scraped his teeth over Harry's shoulder, biting down just a bit.

"Cheeky bitch." He relaxed his grip on Harry's wrists and sat back over his hips. Harry did not move, but lay looking up at Draco. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"I've never made love to you before," said Harry.

"What are you talking about?" Draco gave him a bemused look. "Of course you have."

"No. I've _fucked_ you. I've given you what you have demanded." Harry lightly gripped Draco's legs, sliding his hands over his thighs. "I've given it to you hard and rough. I've never made love to you."

He sat up, gently pushing Draco off of him. "I've never given you gentle caresses…" Harry traced a finger over Draco's cheek. "I've never awakened your senses with tender kisses…" Harry gently kissed a line over his throat and down the center of his chest. Draco let out a soft sigh. He reached up to touch Harry, but the raven-haired wizard caught his hand in his own and laced their fingers. Harry stretched out over him and leaned down to give Draco a passionate yet soft kiss.

"I've never held you as if you were the most precious thing on this earth." Harry rocked his hips down, grinding against Draco. " _Resigno Apertus. Illitus Inlitus._ " Harry stroked Draco's erection with his slick hand as he kissed him, nipping gently at his lips and nuzzling his chin. Draco's breathing quickened and he arched up to meet Harry, thrusting into his hand. He reached down to stroke Harry.

"No. Let me love you," Harry whispered. He kissed Draco's jaw, and his collar bone. He swirled his tongue over Draco's chest and lightly tugged at the ring in each nipple with his lips until the Slytherin was a moaning, writhing puddle.

"Harry, _please!_ " he begged. Harry continued to kiss and caress Draco with his mouth, reaching down to slowly push two fingers into him, scissoring them and nudging at his prostate. "Oh, Merlin! Mmmm! Please, Harry, _please!_ "

Finally, Harry pushed his legs apart and pressed his cock against his opening. Draco twitched.

"You must relax, my love." Harry pushed in gently and Draco let out a guttural moan.

"Oh, my gods, I love it when you fill me up!" Draco exclaimed. "Ohhhh! Ohhhh! Fucking, Salazar!" he swore as Harry began to move. "Shit! By Persephone, I love you, Harry Potter! I love you! I love you!"

"Oh, Merlin! Oh, Godric! Draco! Draco! Draco!" Harry intoned. Each thrust was deep and long. He didn't want a rough shag. He wanted them to build their passion together and express his emotional feelings through his physical attentions. He kissed Draco softly and passionately, alternating tender pecks with deep, open-mouthed kisses. He reached down and began to stroke Draco again, gripping his prick and sliding his hand over it with the same rhythm as his lovemaking.

Draco closed his eyes and pressed his head back into the pillow, losing coherent speech. He let out a keening wail as his arousal built to a fevered pitch.

"Ahhhhhhh! Ohhhhh! Mmmmmm! Mmmmmm! Mmmmm!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Harry cried, his cock pulsing, until he could hold back no longer. He thrust deep and hard, holding himself in as Draco clenched tightly around him.

"Ohhhhhh! Ahhhhhaaahhhahhhaahh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!" A tear escaped his eye, and soon Draco was crying in earnest as his orgasm washed over him. "Harry! Harry! Har-ry! Har-ry!" he hiccoughed. "Don't let me go! Please! Please! Never let me go!"

"I'll never let you go, Draco." Harry kissed each tear-stained cheek as he lay on his lover's chest. "I promise." They barely took the time to cast cleaning spells before they curled into one another and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The trio was already at the table the next morning, enjoying a breakfast of eggs, toast, fresh fruit and sausages when Narcissa arrived in the dining room.

"Good morning, Madame," said Adrestia.

"Good morning, Narcissa." Harry smiled as he and Draco stood, and her son pulled out her chair.

"Good morning, Mother. I hope that you slept well."

"Would that I could say that I did, Draco." Narcissa pursed her lips as she filled her cup with tea.

"Mother, you will need your rest. I hope you aren't allowing this impending trial to unsettle you," said Draco. He placed his napkin in his lap once he'd seated himself again.

"It is not the trial that has me bothered, my son." She gave Harry a pointed look. He gazed at her with a serene expression.

"Mother?" Draco gave her a questioning look. She kept her eyes on Harry.

"What exactly are your intentions towards my son, Mr. Potter?" she asked.

"I was under the impression that I had already made myself clear, Narcissa. I love Draco, and I have only his best interests at heart."

"Is that what you were doing on the landing last night, then? Seeing to Draco's best interests?"

"Mother, you are entering territory which, quite frankly, is none of your concern," said Draco.

"I beg your pardon?" Narcissa looked at him indignantly.

"I think you heard me. While I am grateful that you are still concerned for my 'best interests' as Harry put it, I am an adult. My personal life is off limits, unless I say otherwise."

"Draco—" she began.

"Shall I weigh in with my opinion of _your_ new romantic interest? He _is_ a muggle after all, and I have yet to meet him." Draco gave her a pointed look, arching a brow. Narcissa pursed her lips and took up her tea.

"Fine. I will endeavor to respect your wishes. I do not understand all of this, but just know that I only want what is best for you, my love."

"So do we," said Adrestia. She took Harry's hand, and Harry reached for Draco's.


	42. The Trial of Lucius Malfoy

_**Please note that gavels are not used in Crown Court—but this is the Wizengamot—so I took some artistic liberties. Enjoy!_

"Please state your name and address for the record."

"Harry James Potter. My address is unplottable and I beg the Assembly's pardon, but I shall not reveal it. I have filed a Writ of Privacy with the Ministry of Magic." Harry pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Very well," said the Polemarch. Eustace Fawley was again presiding over the proceedings. "Let the record reflect Mr. Potter's compliance with procedure. You may proceed with your examination."

"Thank you, M'Lord." The prosecuting Archon stood and took his place at a lower podium off to one side of the principal platform. "What is your occupation, Mr. Potter."

"I am an Auror in the Ministry of Magic Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"And can you take us through the sequence of events which led to Mr. Malfoy's arrest?"

"Ahem," Harry cleared his throat. "I was on a visit to St. Mungo's for personal business, when I happened to learn that Mrs. Malfoy had been admitted. I inquired as to the reason and was told that she had willfully ingested an unknown poison, the effects of which reminded me of a potion which I encountered during the war, along with Professor Dumbledore. This was a potion, of Tom Riddle's creation, which causes the drinker to suffer great pain, thirst, and frightening hallucinations of their darkest memories. I had become suspicious of the claim that Mrs. Malfoy could have consumed it of her own volition. In order to inflict the level of injury which she had suffered, the potion must be forcefully administered."

"And do you know how this potion was administered to Mrs. Malfoy?" the Archon asked.

"I do."

"Go on."

"The mode of delivery was disguised through an elixir of which Mrs. Malfoy regularly partakes in the evenings. Additionally, she was placed under an Imperious Curse to ensure that she would consume all of it."

A quiet murmur rippled through the chamber. Flashbulbs popped and strobed around the press gallery above.

"Mr. Potter, how did you come to discover that the Imperious Curse had been used to compel Mrs. Malfoy to ingest the potion?"

"I cast Prior Incantanto upon the wand that was used."

"And to whom did that wand belong?"

"Lucius Malfoy."

"A wand was submitted into evidence upon Mr. Malfoy's arrest." The Archon summoned a jeweled wand from a box on a ledge below the podium. "Is this that wand? Blackthorn, thirteen inches, with a core of basilisk horn?"

"While I was heretofore unfamiliar with the wand core, I recognize that wand—thirteen inches, blackthorn, with emeralds embedded around the hilt."

"Let the record show that Mr. Potter has identified Exhibit one-dash-A as the wand used in the commission of the act. At this time, I have no further questions. I would like to reserve the right to recall Mr. Potter at a later time."

"Are there any other questions for Mr. Potter at this time?" asked the Polemarch.

"Yes," said another Archon, who was seated in the lower gallery with the assembled members of the Wizengamot.

"Proceed, sir."

"Mr. Potter, how did you come to obtain this wand?"

"It was given to me by a confidential informant," Harry replied.

"I see. Was this the wand that was taken from Mr. Malfoy at the time of his arrest?"

"It was not." Harry knew where this line of questioning was going and fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"May we please see the wand that was taken from Lucius Malfoy upon his arrest?" the Archon asked. Another box below the podium was opened and a wand was summoned. It hovered just before Harry, and in view of those present in the chamber. "Is this the wand that was taken from Mr. Malfoy at the time of his arrest?"

"It is one of the wands that was taken from Mr. Malfoy, yes." The Grammateus noted the exhibit identification.

" _One_ of the wands?" asked another Archon. The pinched woman, with silvery-white hair, looked over the rim of her spectacles. "Do you mean to say that Mr. Malfoy was in possession of more than one wand?"

"When I first informed Mr. Malfoy that I was placing him under arrest, he attempted to curse me. That wand, made of elm, and containing a core of dragon heartstring, was taken by Mrs. Malfoy, who, present at the time, disarmed him. He summoned the wand that you see before us now, and engaged me, Mrs. Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy in the duel which ultimately resulted in the loss of his limb."

"But you did not _see_ Mr. Malfoy in possession of the wand which you claim was used to Imperious Mrs. Malfoy. How can you be certain then, that it has been in his possession?"

"The wand has been identified by Draco Malfoy as having originally belonged to his ancestor, Lucius Malfoy, I. It and other ancestral wands, along with _this_ one are displayed throughout Malfoy Manor."

"Then how can you be sure the wand was not used by Draco Malfoy or someone else?"

Harry pursed his lips with exasperation. "Lucius Malfoy, the elder, has been long dead. At the time of the attack upon Mrs. Malfoy, she and her husband were the only residents of The Manor. Draco Malfoy was out of the country."

Polemarch Fawley called for a recess and Harry met Draco and Narcissa in a small room reserved for witnesses.

"Well?" Draco asked.

"I think it is going well. One of the Archons, I think Edmund Bole is his name—"

"Ugh! He's still on the Wizengamot?" Draco pulled a face.

"You know him?"

"Edmund was perhaps a year or two ahead of us in school," said Narcissa. "He and Lucius were mates. I personally thought he was a pompous git."

"The Boles didn't sympathize with the Death Eaters, but they made no secret of their beliefs on blood purity. You might recall his son, Lucian, Harry. Played beater for Slytherin in our third year."

"That dirty _shit_ who clubbed Alicia Spinnet?" Draco nodded. Harry scowled. "Well, he's trying to cast doubt regarding the wands, but I think we've managed to rebut his arguments." He gave them a reassuring smile and helped himself to the complimentary tea.

The Wizengamot reconvened half an hour later. Harry now sat in the lower gallery beside Hermione, who was between him and Gawain Robards. A large pool, which reminded Harry of the one in the Death Cell he'd been shown on a tour, during his first visit to MACUSA, filled the floor of the chamber. This pool, however, was only an enlarged pensieve, into which Narcissa's memories were poured, for the assembly to view. Draco was called to testify next.

"Please state your name and address for the record."

"Draco…" he paused a moment. "Lucius…Malfoy. My current address of record is 800 Marlborough Street, Boston, Massachusetts, United States."

"Thank you. Direct examination may proceed." The Polemarch took his seat, and the prosecuting Archon stood once again.

"Mr. Malfoy, do you know the accused, Lucius Malfoy, II?"

"He is my father."

"And the alleged victim, Narcissa Malfoy, is your mother then?"

"That is correct."

"Mr. Malfoy, prior testimony has been given regarding a wand employed in the casting of an Unforgivable Curse against Mrs. Malfoy. This is the wand in question." The emerald and blackthorn wand was summoned again. "Do you recognize this wand?"

"I do."

"Can you tell us to whom it belongs?"

"It is the wand of Lucius Malfoy…The First."

"And you know this how?"

"When I was a child, the wands of our ancestors were displayed throughout our home at Malfoy Manor, in Wiltshire. When our home became the target of numerous searches by the Ministry and Aurors, my father had them removed and placed in our vault at Gringotts. After the war, he returned them to display. This wand was kept in a glass case above the mantel in his study."

"Would it surprise you to learn that, when subjected to testing, your fingerprints were found on this wand?" asked the witch who had questioned Harry about the wands.

"No. As I said, they were displayed throughout my childhood home. I have no doubt handled many of them at some time or another."

"Have you ever used any of these wands in your home or elsewhere?" asked another Archon. He recognized her as Susan Bones, a Hufflepuff who had attended Hogwarts at the same time as he had. He briefly wondered if her appointment filled the seat left when her aunt, Amelia, was murdered.

"No. I have only ever employed two wands—my own hawthorn, and for a brief period in 1998, that of my mother."

"Where were _you_ on the evening that your mother was poisoned, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the prosecuting Archon.

"I was at my home in Boston, entertaining my…companion."

"You were entertaining your _companion._ I would say that is rather convenient, isn't it?" retorted Edmund Bole with a snort. Quiet laughter rose up from several members. Lucius eyed his son with a contemptible smirk. "And your _companion_ wouldn't happen to be available to testify to this alibi, would she?" Bole asked, a self-satisfied grin upon his face.

"As a matter of fact, he is," Draco replied, calmly. A more audible murmur rippled throughout the chamber, and Lucius paled.

"I-I beg your pardon?" the Archon blustered at having been caught off guard. " _He?_ "

"I don't generally stutter, Mr. Bole."

"You say this…wizard is _here?_ "

Draco let out an exasperated sigh. " _Yes._ "

"Mr. Malfoy, is it your position that this companion willing to testify to your alibi?" asked the silver-haired witch.

"It is. _He_ is." Draco nodded affirmatively. The Polemarch rose.

"Mr. Malfoy, so that the Wizengamot might summon the wizard in question for testimony, would you please state his name for the record?"

Draco glanced at Lucius a moment, then cast his eyes to the wizard sitting in the first row of the lower gallery, before he spoke.

"Harry Potter."

The chamber erupted into chaos as a general outcry arose around the room; several members of the Wizengamot protested loudly. Spectators in the upper gallery angrily rebuked Draco for making such a statement, while others laughed out loud at the preposterousness of the idea. Harry could barely see Draco for the flashbulbs that popped and strobed endlessly in his face. He blinked against the blinding light, fighting the urge to cover his face. He didn't want to give the impression of denial or embarrassment. Eustace Fawley banged his gavel loudly.

"Order! I will have order immediately, or the Chief Warlock will clear the chamber!" he demanded. The room quieted to a low murmur. Hermione patted Harry's knee. He gave her hand a squeeze. "Mr. Malfoy, this is a criminal trial before the Wizengamot! Such antics will _not_ be tolerated! State the name of the wizard in question, or recant your testimony! But be assured that you will face a _stiff_ penalty for perjury as well as slandering the name of Mr. Potter!" The Polemarch glared down at Draco, who appeared unperturbed.

"I have answered the question posed before me. If you doubt my sincerity, I will happily testify to it under veritaserum."

Fawley huffed impatiently. "Will Mr. Potter please rise?"

Harry stood, swaying slightly and continuing to blink, as his vision had still not cleared from the onslaught of flashes.

"You have heard Mr. Malfoy's testimony. Do you affirm that his statement is the truth? Were you in his presence on the night that Mrs. Malfoy was poisoned?"

"The dates do align, yes. I was in Mr. Malfoy's company on the evening in question." A shocked gasp echoed in the chamber. Eustace banged his gavel, and the chatter immediately ceased.

"And what was the nature of your visit with Mr. Malfoy on that evening?" asked Bole.

"I fail to see the relevance of your question Archon Bole," Harry replied, crisply.

"You _claim_ to have been in Mr. Malfoy's presence on the night in question. How are we to know that you are not simply speaking in his behalf as you did during the War Tribunal?"

"Very well. Mr. Malfoy and I were engaged in activities of a romantic nature. Do you require more specifics? Perhaps the color of his pants? I assure you that the details are _quite_ debauched. I do recall wine and cheese afterward. And then he gifted me with a piece of jewelry." Harry arched a brow as he pulled back his sleeve to reveal the jeweled cuff. Bole's face reddened as a few members of the gallery snickered and flashbulbs popped once again. This time, Harry did raise his hand to shield his eyes.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, I think we have heard enough." The Polemarch raised his hand. "You may be seated."

Harry sat down and fixed Draco with an encouraging look. More flashbulbs popped. Fawley banged his gavel for order.

"Are there more questions for this witness?"

"Yes, M'Lord."

"Proceed."

"Mr. Malfoy, were you arrested in Prewett Lane on April twenty-second of this year?"

"I was."

"Who arrested you?"

"Auror Ronald Weasley."

"And what were the circumstances of this arrest?"

"I was told that I was a material witness to the grievous bodily harm of my mother."

"A material witness?" Susan Bones spoke up. "If you weren't present at the time of the incident, what evidence did you have that would be material to this case?" she asked.

"Ms. Bones, it is no secret that I am intensely devoted to my mother. I moved to America only because I felt the need to place myself beyond my father's influence. I broke contact with her in order to prevent him from possibly using my correspondence to locate me. Lucius Malfoy poisoned my mother because he knew that if I found out, I would undoubtedly return home to see about her."

"What possible harm could come to you from your own father?" asked Edmund Bole. Draco glared impatiently at him.

"My father had brokered a marriage contract to which I was opposed—for reasons which have already been revealed to the assembly."

"To whom were you to be betrothed?" asked another Archon.

"Miette Nott, the half-sister of Theodore Nott."

"Surely, you could simply have refused to sign the contract, could you not?" Bole suggested.

"If Lucius had become aware of my return, he would have used means beyond my powers to coerce me to sign the contract."

"Come now, Young Malfoy. Even if that were so, marriage contracts _can_ be broken. Marriages may be dissolved."

"A Blood Betrothal cannot, Mr. Bole. Therefore, I refused to sign it." Yet another gasp arose from the assembly.

"A _Blood Betrothal?_ " Eustace Fawley turned his head sharply and gazed at Lucius in disbelief. "Why such an archaic arrangement?"

"Lucius needed to be certain that I would not break the contract. He had brokered the marriage in exchange for an item he desired from Mr. Nott."

"Do you know what that item is?" asked Fawley.

"I do." All eyes were on Draco now. The Chief Warlock leaned forward expectantly. "He wants a Time-Turner—one that is not restricted by the limits of the Hour-Reversal charm."

The assembly once again erupted with exclamations of surprise and disbelief as photographers snapped away.

"Enough!" The Chief Warlock now banged his gavel with a resounding noise that echoed throughout the chamber. "This is a court of law, dammit! One more outburst and I will clear the chamber!" The room fell immediately silent. "Mr. Malfoy, that is a serious allegation. Do you have any proof to support your assertion?"

"I have provided memories. Lucius Malfoy confessed to poisoning my mother in order to coerce me into returning home for the betrothal."

The Chief Warlock instructed the Polemarch to call for a lunch recess. In order to avoid the press, Harry, Draco and Narcissa apparated back to Number Twelve from the catacombs. They quietly ate a light lunch that had been prepared and brought over by Molly, before returning to the Ministry. When the assembly reconvened, Draco's memories were presented in the giant pensieve and the members watched Lucius' confession. Draco, now sitting beside Harry, was questioned once more.

"Mr. Malfoy, in your memory, your father only mentions his desire to obtain an unnamed artefact. How can you be sure it is the Time-Turner?" asked the Polemarch.

"I know that Theodore Nott had been working to create one for him. I had seen correspondence regarding it before I left for America. It's the only thing he could possibly offer Lucius to entice him into such an agreement. As his family's estate had taken a significant hit, due to restitution for war crimes, and his sister is essentially illegitimate, marrying me would bring a bride price that, while not as significant as a marriage to a pureblood heiress would demand, would still bolster the Nott estate."

"Thank you. Please be seated."

"Lucius Malfoy, II, please stand."

In the dock, Lucius lifted his chin and stood, squaring his shoulders. He placed his remaining hand on the rail.

"Please state your name and address for the record."

"Lucius Malfoy, II. My primary residence is Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire."

"If the Assembly pleases, I should like to request that Mr. Malfoy's examination be carried out with the use of Veritaserum." The prosecuting Archon addressed the Polemarch.

"I have no objection," replied Fawley.

"With all due respect," said Edmund Bole, "Mr. Malfoy has not yet been given the opportunity to answer any questions. Why is the Polemarch so quick to agree to the use of Veritaserum?"

"Mr. Fawley, please elucidate your decision to grant the request in this matter," instructed the Chief Warlock.

"Mr. Malfoy has appeared before this assembly on numerous occasions. He has demonstrated his ability to use deceptive means in order to escape punishment. If indeed he is not guilty, he should have little to fear, and we will save the Wizengamot valuable time in resolving this matter."

"You have heard the Polemarch's decision. Are there any further objections?" the Chief Warlock asked. There were soft murmurs, but no other Archontes spoke up. "Very well. Will the Baiulus please administer the Veritaserum."

A wizard standing just below the podium beside the Grammateus' desk stepped forward. He wore a bright blue robe with a golden emblem embroidered on the breast that read _Dicat Ergo Baiulus._ He crossed to the dock and pointed his wand at a panel just below it. A small cupboard door appeared and he opened it, retrieving a small chalice. The Baiulus then entered the dock and presented the cup to Lucius, who turned up his nose in disdain.

"Mr. Malfoy, the Chief Warlock can compel you to ingest the potion by force," the bailiff said softly. He held out the cup. Lucius took it with a huff and drank the potion in one swallow. He returned the chalice to the wizard and gave his hair a toss. The Baiulus inverted the cup to indicate that it was empty.

"Thank you," said the Chief Warlock. "I now defer to the Polemarch."

"Thank you, M'Lord. The examination may begin." Eustace Fawley nodded to the prosecutor.

"Thank you, M'Lord." The prosecutor turned to Lucius. "Mr. Malfoy, a memory has been provided by your son and presented here in this assembly, in which you confess to poisoning your wife, Narcissa Malfoy. In it, you refer to an item that you wished to obtain—one that you would receive in exchange for your son's betrothal to one Miette Nott. What was that item?"

Lucius made a face, and pursed his lips tightly. He grimaced with the discomfort of attempting to hold his tongue. Draco reached for Harry's hand, gripping it tightly.

"A Time-Turner," Lucius finally blurted.

"You had previously engaged Mr. Theodore Nott to create this artefact?"

"Yes."

"And this Time-Turner violates the Hour-Reversal Charm?"

"Yes."

A murmur rose from the assembly, but quickly silenced under the glare of the Chief Warlock.

"What did you plan to do with this artefact, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked.

"I—had hoped to return to a point in the past and undo my actions," Lucius replied. "I would have sent _Draco_ to open the Chamber of Secrets!" he declared. This time, the outcry could not be silenced, but Lucius continued to talk, his raspy voice barely audible over the din. "Imagine it! The shame! _My_ son—a sodomite who would not only be unable to provide me with a suitable pureblood heir, but who was also secretly lusting after the filthy blood-traitor, Harry Potter! I would _gladly_ have sacrificed him to the Dark Lord!"

Draco's face drained of color, and he held Harry's hand in a death grip as he stared at Lucius. His stomach roiled, and he swallowed hard to keep down the bile rising in his throat.

"You thought I didn't _know!"_ Lucius screamed hoarsely. "You _lied_ for him! You let him _escape!_ Your foolish infatuation and lovelorn behavior nearly got us _killed!_ "

" _Silencio!_ " the Chief Warlock bellowed, pointing his wand at Lucius and silencing him. " _Sonorus!"_ He placed his wand to his throat. "Ballivis! Clear the assembly immediately! Only the witnesses, Archon Basilei, and Perpetual Archons shall remain!" The Chief Warlock's voice reverberated as if from the walls of the chamber itself. The blue-robed bailiffs quickly herded reporters and spectators from the chamber.

Finally, in addition to the Polemarch, Grammateus, Prosecuting Archon, defendant and witnesses, only about half of the Wizengamot remained. The Baiulus who administered Lucius' Veritaserum stood in front of the dock, while two Aurors stood inside the dock with Lucius, who continued to silently rage at his son. He gripped the rail to maintain his balance, holding so tightly, that his knuckles were white. The Chief Warlock returned his own voice to normal.

"Mr. Malfoy! You will _cease_ speaking at once, or you will be placed in a body bind and transported to St. Mungo's where you will be remanded to the Janice Thickey Ward, and this trial will continue without you! Nod if you understand." Lucius ceased his noiseless shouts and nodded, his chest heaving with anger. "Very good." He lifted the spell. "Now then, I once again defer to the Polemarch."

"Are there any further questions for Mr. Malfoy?" Fawley asked.

"I have just a few, M'Lord, pertaining to the final count—attempted bribery of a ministry official."

"You may proceed."

"Thank you. Mr. Malfoy, according to a statement provided by Mr. Potter as part of the application for your arrest warrant, you did on two occasions—April twenty-fourth of this year, and two days later, on April twenty-sixth, offer him remuneration in exchange for your son's release from custody. Is that correct?"

Lucius huffed impatiently. "Yes, I did."

"If, we are to believe your recent outburst, your relationship with your son is badly damaged. Why would you have sought his release?" asked Susan Bones.

"I only wanted him so that he could sign the contract and I could obtain the Time-Turner."

"Mr. Malfoy, was your plan to use the Time-Turner an attempt to ensure the success of The Dark Lord's mission—that the Dark Lord was not defeated by Mr. Potter?"

"I—" Lucius seemed to shrink. "No. The Dark Lord cared only about his own power. He would have slaughtered us all regardless, if given half the chance. Perhaps not Bellatrix—she was so devoted to him, that she abandoned her marital bed for his side. I only sought to destroy Potter. I saw the look in my son's eyes when Potter and his confederates escaped The Manor. I had seen it before—after the attack on the World Cup—it wasn't regret. It was _longing!_ I wasn't entirely certain of what I had seen, until our trials before the War Tribunal. There it was again! My _only_ son was in _love_ with Harry Potter! Even my _wife_ had turned against me, refusing to encourage him to sign the marriage contract!" Lucius turned malevolent eyes upon Harry. "You couldn't be satisfied with winning—you had to destroy my lineage as well?"

"I have no further questions, M'Lord," said the prosecutor.

"Are there any further questions or inquiries from the Assembly?" asked the Polemarch. The Chamber was quiet. "I now defer to the Chief Warlock."

"Ballivis, please summon all relevant parties before the vote."

Narcissa was escorted into the chamber by Ron. As they were seated, Kingsley Shacklebolt entered the chamber. The press was allowed to return, with a stern warning that any disruptive outbursts would result in censure and suspension of their Ministry access.

"You have heard the evidence and testimony against Mr. Malfoy. Is the Assembly ready for the question?"

"Aye!" the Archontes replied in unison.

"In the matter of the Ministry v. Lucius Malfoy of Wiltshire, England, as to the first count: Use of an Unforgivable Curse, acts of magic prohibited by the Wizengamot Decree of 1717; all those in favor of conviction?"

The Archontes unanimously raised their hands.

"As to the second count: Grievous Bodily Harm to another person; all those in favor of conviction?"

Again, the vote was unanimous.

"As to the third count: Possession of classified Dark Potions; all those in favor of conviction?" This time, only fifteen of the Archontes voted affirmatively. "All in favor of acquittal?" Edmund Bole raised his hand. "Abstentions?" The remaining four wizards raised their hands.

"As to the final count: Attempted bribery of a Ministry Official; all those in favor of conviction?" Eighteen of the members raised their hands. Edmund Bole and the silver-haired Archon voted to acquit.

"Lucius Malfoy, you have been found guilty on all four counts presented before this assembly. You are hereby sentenced to a term of life in prison. All assets, including titles and property deeds in your vaults, excluding the bridewealth belonging to Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, will be immediately seized and granted to the eldest Malfoy heir. The heir of record is Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy. You will be remanded to Azkaban immediately following adjournment of this session. Have you anything to say at this time?"

"I do not." Lucius' voice was now barely a whisper. His face was drawn and pale, and he reached fruitlessly for his nonexistent hand.

"Very well. Mrs. Malfoy. Have you anything to say at this time?"

Narcissa stood. "I would only like to thank The Assembly for seeing that justice is served in this matter." She sat.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy, have you anything to say at this time?"

"Thank you, M'Lord, I do not."

"This concludes these proceedings. I hereby adjourn this session of the Wizengamot. Aurors, please take the defendant into custody." The Aurors seized Lucius and disapparated.

As soon as the Members had departed, the press rushed for the exits. Draco and Narcissa held tightly to one another and Harry gripped Draco's hand.

"It's over. It's over. It's over." Narcissa repeated.

"We are free, Mother. We are finally free!" Draco whispered to her.

"Harry." Hermione beckoned him over. He reluctantly left Draco's side and went to where she stood in front of the now empty dock. "Robards has requested that a warrant be issued for Theodore Nott's arrest. Aurors have already been to his address, but it looks as if he's cleared out."

"It's not surprising. If we'd known what he was doing sooner, we could have gotten him. I suspect he probably took off the moment he learned that Lucius had been arrested."

"I just thought you should know," she said. "Also, you might tell Narcissa that the Wizengamot has passed a measure allowing the spouses of any convicted wizard or witch receiving a life sentence in Azkaban to request a divorce without hearing. It was part of the reforms following the war. I have a meeting, but I can bring the paperwork around for Narcissa later if she wishes."

"Brilliant. Thanks Hermione." Harry gave her a hug and she left.

"Do you wish to attend the press briefing?" Kingsley asked.

"I don't think I'm up to it just now, Kingsley. They've got plenty of fodder, and more than enough pictures for the moment. I'm still seeing spots from all the flashbulbs. I just want to take Draco and Narcissa home."

"Very well," Kingsley replied. "We will talk soon."

"Thanks," said Harry. He turned, and Kingsley placed a hand on his arm.

"You know, Harry, you could have told me." Kingsley's gaze was direct, but not accusatory.

"I, erm, I know Kingsley. I just—"

"I understand. Take the passage behind the podium. You can floo from my office."

Harry gently collected Draco and Narcissa to escort them home, where Adrestia was waiting with Molly and Arthur. When they stepped out of the floo, Molly and Narcissa shared a glance and Molly opened her arms. Narcissa rushed to her, burying her face in Molly's shoulder as she quietly sobbed.

"Guilty?" asked Arthur.

"All four counts." Harry nodded. "Edmund Bole voted to acquit on the possession and bribery charges."

"Pompous bastard!" Arthur muttered.

Harry went to the sideboard and poured two generous portions of whiskey. He took a sip, passing the second glass to Draco, who gratefully accepted. They stood staring at one another as they drank, and the room was heavy with silence.

"Well," Molly spoke up. "Your young lady is quite the cook! We have dinner ready in the dining room. I imagine that you're quite famished."

"The group drifted into the dining room where the table was laid with roast chicken, lemony roasted potatoes, brussels sprouts, and steamed green beans, fresh dinner rolls dripping with melted butter. They filled their plates while Harry filled the others in on the trial. Everyone exchanged horrified looks when they learned of Lucius' outburst and admission during questioning. Narcissa pushed away her plate with shaking hands.

"Will Theodore Nott be arrested?" asked Arthur.

"Assuming he can be found," replied Harry. "Most likely, he's fled to the continent already."

"Or back in time," Draco muttered, sipping his wine.

They heard the soft gong of the floo alert. Harry stood.

"It's only me!" Hermione's voice floated in to them. A moment later, she entered the dining room carrying a bundle of newspapers and a folder. "Naturally, you've made the front page." She passed around copies of the _Daily Prophet_.

Draco leaned close to Harry as he unfolded the paper. There was a large central photo of Harry just after Draco had revealed him to be his companion and alibi, looking much like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck. The headline—at least three inches tall—declared: _GOLDEN BOY, POTTER, TOTALLY BENT!_ A secondary headline read: _SAVIOUR OF WIZARDING WORLD IN LOVE WITH FORMER DEATH EATER?_

The accompanying story went into minute detail of Draco's alibi testimony and Harry's corroboration, then began to speculate on their relationship—questioning if Draco was the reason for the demise of Harry and Ginny's relationship. Very little was reported about Lucius' actual trial, other than his outburst during questioning and his admission to facilitating the opening of the Chamber of Secrets at Hogwarts. A picture of the screaming wizard appeared along with photos of Draco, Harry and Narcissa during the reading of the verdict and sentencing.

"If you all will excuse me," said Narcissa as she stood. "I need some time to myself." She quietly left the room.

"Poor dear!" Molly clucked.

"She was spared most of it." Draco turned the newspaper face down. "Her memories sufficed, and she wasn't called to testify. She didn't set foot in the chamber until the vote was taken."

"What will the two of you do about the press, Harry? I received an owl from Ginny just before I left the Ministry. The Harpies have strict security around their facility regarding the press, but she's still a bit annoyed by the number of owls she's already begun to receive."

"Ah! Ginny! Mum, Dad, I'm awfully sorry! I'll send her an owl right away and perhaps some sort of gift to smooth things over with her."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. I'd like to do the same," said Draco. "Flowers perhaps? Perfume?" Harry snorted, and patted his hand.

"I was thinking more along the lines of the new racing broom that Firebolt just released, and a set of _Thestral V,_ Quidditch armor. She'd been hinting about that for her birthday."

"Ah, yes. I hear the gloves are treated with water-repellant palms for better quaffle handling in rain. Capital suggestion!"

"The two of you are going to Diagon Alley together? After the firestorm you've ignited in the press?" Hermione looked at them incredulously.

"I don't know if that's such a good idea, love," said Molly.

"Actually, Molly, I think that's a perfect idea. If we issue a statement, they'll think we're hiding. The verdict is in. Draco has been gone to ground for over a year because of Lucius' plotting. He's free. I'm not afraid." Harry gave Draco's hand a squeeze and looked at him as he continued to speak. "If he's comfortable enough to declare to the entire Wizengamot how he feels about me, then I can stand by him on the streets and do the same."

Draco smiled back, his eyes watery.

Narcissa lay on her side, clutching her pillow. On her nightstand, her mobile phone began to ring. She knew it was Preston. She wanted to speak with him, but her emotions were too much of a jumble at the moment and she couldn't sort them out. There was a knock at the door and Hermione stuck her head in.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mrs. Malfoy. Molly thought you could use a cup of tea."

Narcissa sighed and sat up.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You may enter."

"You can call me Hermione," the young witch said, offering her the tea. Narcissa accepted it gratefully, and eyed the folder tucked under Hermione's arm. Hermione noted her gaze.

"Erm, please forgive me, I don't wish to be indelicate. I don't know if Harry had the opportunity to inform you. As a result of the postbellum legal reform, the Wizengamot has passed a measure allowing any spouse of a witch or wizard sentenced to life imprisonment at Azkaban to request an expedited divorce. Essentially, what that means is that, should you desire to do so, there is only an application that must be filled out and submitted to Wizengamot Administrative Services. A formal decree of dissolution is returned by owl, usually in less than seventy-two hours. I have the paperwork here if you'd like it, and I'm happy to answer any questions you might have."

"That's very kind of you…Hermione. Just set it on the vanity."

Narcissa's phone rang, and Hermione gave a start. Narcissa turned off the ringer, but held the phone in her hand thoughtfully.

"I keep thinking that's me," said Hermione. "It's wonderful that you've taken an interest in the way muggles live."

"Well, Draco has taught me a lot since he returned. I never would have thought it possible. Do you know that he _cooks?_ He even has a motorbike, and can you believe—he took _me_ for a ride on it? It was all so— _exhilarating!_ "

"That sounds amazing. I don't think I'd like riding a motorbike any more than flying a broom." Hermione smiled.

"Hermione…" Narcissa hesitated, nervously. "About what happened—my sister—I realize just how wrong we were about everything. I don't think there are enough words to convey my regret over my part—my family's part in—"

"Mrs. Malfoy—Narcissa—I am—" Hermione paused, touching her hand to the small scar on her throat where Bellatrix had attempted to murder her while they were held at Malfoy Manor. "We can't erase what happened; only time will begin to soften the emotional wounds that so many of us have suffered—even you and Draco. However, I am committed to looking forward. The past only provides us with lessons which teach us how to create a better future."

"That is a very noble way of looking at it." Narcissa set the phone aside. "What exactly is required for this dissolution of marriage application?"

"It's a simple application really; only a short parchment." Hermione summoned the form. "I took the liberty of filling in the legal information—date of conviction and sentence. All you'll really need is to fill in your personal information and sign it."

Narcissa looked over the parchement that the young witch handed to her.

"It entitles you to immediate access to your dower, as your bridewealth will automatically be returned as a result of post-sentencing redistribution of assets. However, I should warn you that as the heir of record, Draco will receive notice at the time of assignment of assets. He _will_ have the right to challenge the award."

"I see. Well, I trust Draco's judgement. I doubt there will be any problems." Narcissa conjured a quill and quickly filled in the appropriate fields, signing it with a flourish. Hermione touched her wand to the parchment to notarize it, and promised to file the application first thing in the morning.


	43. From the Very Beginning

Harry apparated to the catacombs and strode purposefully through the bullpen at the DMLE, ignoring the curious stares of the Patrol Witches and Wizards who were at their desks preparing for the morning briefing, and the few mages who were present for questioning or post-arrest processing.

"Good morning, Auror Potter," said PW Vietti as he passed her desk at the front of the room.

"Morning, Vietti. How are you?"

"I am well, sir. How is your partner holding up, if I may ask?" She shuffled a stack of parchments as she spoke. Harry gave her a look of confusion.

"Erm, Ron's fine. Why do you ask?"

"No, sir. I meant your significant other, Mr. Malfoy." She leaned forward a bit and lowered her voice. "I'm sure that this whole trial must have been something of a strain—for you both." She smiled amiably. Harry narrowed his eyes at her, but she continued, unabashed. "If there's anything Bronwyn and I can do, for you guys or Mrs. Malfoy, just ring our floo."

"Bronwyn is—"

"Her mother was most displeased to learn of our betrothal, as she had intended Bronnie to be betrothed to Hamid Shafiq, in a bid to restore the Yaxley name." She snorted and rolled her eyes. "As if!"

Harry chuckled, he was well aware that the wizard in question, who was fast making a name for himself as a keeper for the Tutshill Tornadoes Quidditch Club, had been seen out on more than one occasion with Cho Chang on his arm.

"Honestly! What did the woman expect? Bronnie was a Hufflepuff, while the _entire_ rest of her family were in Slytherin!" Vietti rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Well, to answer your question, Draco and Narcissa are bearing up as well as can be imagined. Thank you for asking."

"Well, things weren't quite as dramatic as Draco's situation, but we understand. Now that she's completed her Healer apprenticeship, Mum and Dad are planning our formal betrothal. I know you've never been much for parties, but this will be an intimate affair—close friends and some associates from work—I hope you'll attend." She flicked her wand, and the parchments she'd been sorting, flew to desks around the bullpen.

"Sure. Just send me an owl." Harry smiled. She nodded.

"I won't hold you up any longer. Morning briefing is about to begin. Have a good day, sir." PW Vietti nodded with a smile and turned to join the other officers who were heading in the direction of the briefing room.

Harry continued out of the department to the lifts, keeping his gaze averted and moving with purpose. Most of those he passed were so engrossed in their own tasks that they did not notice him. Others stared openly, but were put off from speaking by his brusque manner. He acknowledged whatever greetings were thrown his way with a perfunctory nod, without pause to engage in any conversation. Thankfully, he found himself on an empty lift that went expeditiously to the first level, where the Minister's office was located.

"Is The Minister available, Mrs. Poindexter?" Harry asked, giving the secretary a smile. The matronly witch with straw-colored hair that reminded him of Hermione gave him an officious look and nodded primly.

"The Minister has instructed me that he is to be informed right away if you came around." She waved her wand and a silvery fox appeared and scampered off through the ornate double doors behind her desk. A moment later, Kingsley's lynx patronus appeared and a deep voice issued from it.

"Send him in." The doors to the office swung open and Harry entered The Minister's office.

"Good morning, Kingsley," he said.

"Good morning, Harry. I hope all is well," he replied, rising from his desk. "Tea?" he gestured to the credenza beside the fireplace as he made his way to it.

"Thank you."

Kingsley poured them each a cup. He took the seat in front of his desk, across from Harry, and crossed his legs as he took a sip.

"So?" he asked. Harry took a sip of tea before he spoke.

"Well, I've given it a fair bit of thought, and I don't believe that I will apply for the position of department head."

"Are you absolutely certain that I can't persuade you?" Kingsley asked.

"With all due respect, I think it's best for all involved. The world has just learned that Draco Malfoy and I are involved. If you weren't the Minister of Magic, what would _your_ first thought be?"

"Harry, you are the one who spoke on behalf of the Malfoys. You're the one involved with Draco, and at the moment, clearly know him best. Only the two of you will be able to convince the public of his sincerity and the realness of your relationship. Whether you head the Auror department or not, that isn't going to change. You are still a public figure."

"I know that, Kingsley. Still, all throughout the war, what I said and did had a butterfly effect. The Ministry needs to be strong right now. The public must feel confidence in your leadership, in order for it to continue to grow. I don't want to be the reason that doesn't happen."

Kingsley sipped his tea thoughtfully.

"Very well, Harry. I realize that with all that has come about as a result of the trial, you may need some more time off. I'll ask Gawain to extend your leave of absence. I hope you will at least reconsider leaving the department altogether. I know that this is a career that you've wanted since you were a boy. Please give it a little while longer before you tender your resignation."

"Well, as I am already relegated to desk duty, I doubt it will be difficult to convince him," Harry chuckled. Kingsley smiled before his expression turned thoughtful again.

"How long, Harry?" he asked. "When did you know?"

"To be perfectly honest, Kingsley, I don't know. Ron and the others say that they believed I was obsessed with Draco in school. They wondered if I wasn't attracted to him then. If I was, I didn't know that's what it was. It wasn't until I saw him again in America, and _he_ suggested it. He came on to me. It was then that I realized something was there—something that I couldn't deny. For Draco's part—he's been in love with me the whole time. Narcissa said it's why she lied to Riddle and told him I was dead. She had figured it out, and she knew she couldn't devastate her son by allowing me to be killed. You heard transcript of Lucius' testimony—he too, had figured it out. We can only be grateful that Bellatrix and Riddle never knew." Harry took a deep breath.

"Kingsley, my mother sacrificed her life to save me. I didn't think anyone would ever love me enough again to do that. Ever since Riddle first tried to kill me, most of the people in my life only wanted The-Boy-Who-Lived. Even Ginny—I'm sure she had real feelings for me, but they were borne of a girlish crush—between us, it never deepened into that romantic, can't-live-without-you kind of thing. Draco _did_ risk his life; he deliberately helped us to escape Malfoy Manor—because he _loved_ me. He loves _me._ "

"From the very beginning?" Kingsley asked.

"Always."

Adrestia entered the drawing room and handed Draco a fresh cup of tea, kissing him lightly on the temple.

"Why are you reading this mess?" She took the newspaper that he held. The front page was emblazoned by a large photo of him and Harry holding hands as the verdict was read. Beneath were several other photos from the trial, including one showing the pained expression that he wore as Lucius railed against him.

"I don't know." Draco sighed, setting aside his tea and pulling her into his lap. "It all still seems so surreal. He hates me. My father really and truly hates me. He'd rather have seen The Dark Lord prevail than allow me to be happy."

"Are you happy?" Adrestia asked. "With Harry?"

"How could I not be? He stood up in front of the entire Wizengamot and the press and acknowledged our relationship. Harry has always been sincere. Even when he is lying, he is being authentic. I didn't think anyone like that could even exist."

"Then he is your soulmate, Draco. The two of you were meant to be. You know that right? Emerald by day, ruby by night, you're two sides of the same precious jewel, July following June. You've both wielded the same wand to win another."

"How did you—"

"When you collared Harry, I joined your wands. They bonded in a way similar to _Priori Incantatem._ Only, they don't have the same core, so they didn't cast an echo of the most recent spells performed, the radiated an energy as if they were trying to cleave together. I felt it right into my heart, and I had a vision of you both taking a coveted wand."

Draco stared at her astounded.

"There is one more thing. Did you say that his patronus is a stag?" she asked.

"It is. Why?"

"Baby, look!" She held out her hand. In it was a calling card for the Horned Serpent. "Did you never notice? Wizards in the Muscogee Creek Nation were the first to discover the horned serpent. They call its horns _chitto gab-by,_ and say that this snake lives in the water has horns like the stag. You say that of the four elements, the Slytherins have an affinity for water, right?" Draco nodded.

"I—I can't believe it! He—Harry told me that the Sorting Hat tried to place him in Slytherin House!"

Adrestia smiled.

"You were meant to be." She kissed Draco. "Now, what will you do next?"

Narcissa peered nervously through the window of the Starbucks. She bit her lip when she spotted him, a newspaper in one hand as he absently reached for a croissant with the other. Letting out a sigh, she entered the shop and ordered a cup of tea.

"Is this seat taken?"

Preston lowered his paper and looked up at the nervous expression on the beautiful woman's face. He smiled warmly and got to his feet.

"No, not at all! Please, join me!" he pulled out the chair for Narcissa, marveling at the graceful way in which she lowered herself into it. "I'm happy now, that I decided not to take my coffee back to the house." He smiled again.

"I hope you'll forgive me for not returning your calls yesterday evening. The day had been rather trying for me," Narcissa apologized.

"Think nothing of it. I hope things didn't go too badly. Is your husband contesting the divorce—refusing alimony? I don't mean to pry. I'm sorry. You don't have to tell me about it if you don't wish."

"No, he isn't contesting the divorce. It's my son, Draco. Lucius confessed some quite awful things about him—his sexuality—how he felt about it, I mean." She couldn't meet Preston's eyes. She knew that there was so much that she was omitting, but she also knew that there was no way for her to reveal it without violating the Statute of Secrecy. The barista called out her order, and Preston went to retrieve her tea.

"I take it that he doesn't approve," said Preston, when he returned with her cup.

"Thank you," she stirred a little sugar and cream into it. "No, he most certainly does not approve. If you recall, I'd mentioned before that we didn't particularly care for Harry when the two were boys. That they are now a couple absolutely didn't sit well with Lucius. He said the most vile, awful things to our son during the proceedings."

"I'm so sorry to hear that!" Preston reached out for Narcissa's hand. "How is Draco handling that?"

"He's hurt, obviously. Still, he's bearing up rather better than I had thought he would. Thankfully, I believe that all of this will be wrapped up in a day or two. My settlement is more than agreeable." She smiled tentatively.

"Well, I am pleased to hear that." Preston smiled warmly. "I don't wish to be pushy, but Morwenna has been rather adamant about meeting you. I wondered if you might like to join us tomorrow afternoon. I promised to take her to the new reptile exhibit at the zoo."

"Well," Narcissa pulled a face. "I must say that I'm not quite as fond of snakes these days as I had been in my youth, but…"

"Bad experience?"

"Oh, you could say that." She shuddered at the mere memory of The Dark Lord's massive snake, Nagini. "However, you've spoken so excitedly of Morwenna, I should truly like to meet her." Narcissa shook off the shadows of the past and gave Preston a genuine smile.

"Brilliant, shall we pick you up around three o'clock?" he asked.

"Well, how about I come to you? Children are always more comfortable in their own home when meeting someone new," she suggested.

"Capital idea!" Preston exclaimed. He removed his phone from his pocket. "I shall text you the address!"

When he returned from The Ministry, Harry was startled to find Draco appearing in the library only seconds after he stepped out of the fireplace. The blond wizard discarded the used film roll portkey, setting down a designer satchel and crossed the distance between them, to take Harry into his arms.

"What have _you_ been up to that required a portkey?" Harry asked, accepting the peck on the cheek.

"We popped back over to Boston to check on the Serpent." He ran his fingers through Harry's hair, and action that had become a habit, Draco vainly hoping that he could find a way to tame the unruly black locks.

"All is well?" Harry asked, capturing Draco's wrists, and pulling his hands away from his head.

"Yes, all is well. Tia has stayed behind to look after things. Erm, Neville has finally decided that he wishes to keep her exclusively."

"Oh? So…" Harry was confused.

"I don't own Adrestia. Neville does. He charged me with her protection when he returned to begin teaching at Hogwarts, and allowed me to share her. They feel that you and I need time to build our relationship, as well as our Dom/Sub dynamic, if you wish to continue it, without distraction."

"I see. Erm, I had begun to get used to us being a trio. I guess that's just the sort of relationship interplay to which I've become accustomed."

Draco pulled him close. "It doesn't mean she's gone from our lives forever, my love. Only that the nature of our relationship has changed. You'll get used to it; now you have me all to yourself." He grinned wickedly.

A small owl swooped into the room through the open window, and dropped an envelope into Draco's hands before perching on the back of a chair.

"Off with you now," said Harry, gently coaxing the raptor onto his arm before its sharp talons could rip the leather upholstery on the antique chair. He went to the door and sent it to the aviary, where it immediately snapped up a few owl treats from the open ledge. "What's that?" he asked Draco, peering over his shoulder as he read the parchment.

"It's from Gringotts' Accounting. I am required to come to the bank in order to sign some documents regarding the transfer of assets into my name. Care to join me?"

"Is this our first official appearance as a couple?" Harry smirked. "I should put on something special!"

"Yes, you should!" Draco exclaimed. Harry laughed lightly, kissing his neck. "No, really. You should change," said Draco. "I'll wait." He sat on the chesterfield and shooed Harry upstairs where he changed, only to be sent back up two more times.

"If you send be back again, I'm coming down in a Weasley jumper!" Harry declared as he entered for the fourth time. He wore a pair of neat, relaxed-fit jeans with a Henley shirt and a waistcoat in handsome estate tweed with scarlet overcheck. His feet were shod in fawn-colored chukka boots. Draco's pulse quickened at the sight of him in the shirt that clung to his torso in all the right places. He licked his lips and Harry grinned. "I take it that you approve then?"

"Oh, yes! I almost don't want to go now." He stood.

"You're going in that?" Harry asked.

"Tongues will be wagging. May as well give them the full-monty." Draco winked.

They landed in front of Gringotts and moved swiftly into the bank before too many people had an opportunity to register their presence. There were only a few witches and wizards conducting business inside, but all stared openly as the pair made their way across the marble floor to a gate at the far end of the room. The goblins in the establishment carried on as if nothing unusual had taken place, though they surreptitiously eyed them as they passed. Harry knew that this had more to do with the lingering distrust they harbored for him after the break-in and escape than any curiosity about the couple.

"May I help you, Mr. Malfoy?"asked the goblin seated at a small desk just in front of the gilded portal, his voice cool.

"Yes. I received correspondence from Grimbledark regarding documents to be signed. All Malfoy vaults shall be transferred to my name," Draco replied, presenting the letter. The goblin quietly examined it.

"Your wand, if you please." He held out a long-fingered hand without looking at Draco, who let out a long-suffering sigh and handed over his wand. The goblin examined it, then leafed through a thick ledger, running his finger over one of the pages. "Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Third door on the right." He reached beneath his desk and they heard a loud click before the gate swung open.

Draco proceeded through the gate and Harry was about to follow, when the gate slammed shut. Draco spun around with a glare. The goblin looked at him with contempt.

"Only Mr. Malfoy is mentioned in the appointment book."

"And Mr. Potter is accompanying me!" Draco snapped. The goblin shrugged dispassionately. Draco narrowed his eyes, his hands tensing.

"Let's not make a scene, my dear. The reformed Muggle Liason Office now has a currency exchange, and the goblins there offer excellent rates on conversion from gold to muggle notes. I am _more_ than confident that my representatives at Barclays shall be over the moon to have our accounts with them." Harry smiled and gave an arrogant shrug, eyeing the goblin. The loss of the wealth contained in the Potter vault alone, which now included the vast inheritance of the Black fortune, would significantly injure the strength and reputation of the institution. The goblin frowned and reached once more beneath his desk.

The entire process took less than half an hour. Lucius' name was removed from all accounts, and replaced with Draco's. Narcissa was kept on as a secondary account holder, and Harry was surprised to be named as a trustee. He attempted to demur, but Draco insisted.

"There is no one else that I trust more, my love. You will always have my best interests at heart."

They signed a ridiculous number of parchments and Draco was given the vault key which had been seized upon Lucius' remand. The couple strolled casually from the bank, in the direction of Quality Quidditch Supply. They walked hand-in-hand as they discussed plans for dinner, and had only gone a few steps from the bank before a flashbulb popped in front of their faces.

"Bloody hell!" Draco exclaimed, shielding his eyes.

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter! How long have you been involved with Draco Malfoy?" asked a reporter.

"I—" Harry began, but was cut off before he could continue.

"Were you having secret liaisons at Hogwarts during the war?" asked another as a small crowd of reporters and curious onlookers began to gather. They backed up onto the steps of Gringotts.

"I _beg your pardon!_ " Draco exclaimed indignantly.

"How does your mother feel about this relationship, Mr. Malfoy? Does she approve?"

"What?"

"Harry, you betrayed us!" someone shouted from the crowd.

"How can you love a Death Eater?" shouted someone else.

"If you were in love with Harry, why didn't you defect from the Death Eaters?"

"How could you choose _him_ when there are so many eligble witches? How could you choose _him_ when there are even eligible wizards? Yeah, and they don't have the Dark Mark!"

"Let them speak!" a voice rang out from the crowd. Harry and Draco saw George Weasley pushing his way through the throng as Bill Weasley appeared from inside the bank.

"Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley! How does your sister Ginny feel about being thrown over for Malfoy? How do you feel about the way Potter has treated your sister?"

"Our sister is more concerned about the Harpies' position in the Quidditch League standings at the current moment," said Bill.

"Ginny and Harry parted on amiable terms and still remain friends," said George.

"Is Draco the reason that you testified for the Malfoys after the war, Harry?" asked one of the reporters. "You were the reason that the family went free, and now you are the reason that Lucius Malfoy is back in Azkaban for life. How can we trust what you say to be true?"

"Because Harry Potter has the purest heart of any wizard I know!" Draco squared his shoulders and spoke up. "The wizarding world placed the weight of its salvation on his shoulders before he was even old enough to walk! My own father and other members of my family—I am ashamed to admit—plotted his demise over and over. Watching him overcome countless obstacles just to live another day while The Ministry denied the return of The Dark Lord and supported the press in their repeated efforts to malign his name, was made all the more painful because I could confess my true feelings to no one—least of all Harry himself! He extended mercy to those who would ultimately betray him in some form or another—Peter Pettigrew, Xenophilius Lovegood—"

"You knew about that?" Harry whispered. Draco only nodded and kept speaking.

"And yes—even my family. My father was too _stupid_ to embrace the second chance he'd been given because he so desperately clung to his archaic pureblood beliefs. None of us deserved his grace, but Harry—a boy—alone—stood up for wizardkind when most of the rest of us were too cowardly to do so."

The crowd had quieted as Draco spoke, but had also continued to grow as it seemed everyone was drawn into the street for a glimpse of the unlikely couple. The reporters scratched away furiously.

"Draco, I appreciate what you have said, but that isn't the point. I spent my childhood fighting for survival, and now I have the opportunity to _live._ I think that I have earned that right, and I don't need to answer for my choices when they don't affect anyone but us." Harry pulled Draco close, gazing into his eyes as he spoke.

"How do you even know he really loves you?" someone yelled. The speaker was immediately chastised, but a murmur still rippled through the crowd.

"Because I love Harry Potter not just for saving us all, but because he chose _me_. He chose me when he had absolutely no reason to do so." Draco turned to Harry. "This wasn't what I had in mind, Harry. I had hoped to do something more—it doesn't matter—I—" Draco sighed. "Every day that we open our eyes in a free society is a gift. After all that has happened in my life, I treasure that gift. I love you for helping make it a reality." He reached into his pocket and drew out a small velvet pouch which he opened. "It seems I've waited a lifetime to be with you. Please say you'll share the rest of it with me."

The crowd gasped. Harry's breath hitched when he saw the pendant hanging from the silver chain. A ring of diamonds was bisected by a row of alexandrite stones which shimmered from green to scarlet as it moved in the sunlight. The jewels were set in a triangle of goblin-made silver. Draco placed the pendant in Harry's palm.

"You were my past. You are my now. I want you to be my future." He traced the sides of the triangle. "I finally feel complete with you in my life." He traced the circle and leaned in close to whisper in Harry's ear. "I gave you my heart long ago, but you won my wand to save us all and give me a new life." Draco traced the line that bisected the figures.

Harry felt lightheaded and the silence of the crowd seemed to roar as Draco lifted the delicate chain.

"I love you, Harry Potter. Will you marry me?"

Seconds ticked by as Harry struggled to find his voice, his throat dry as a desert. Finally, he simply nodded, clearing his throat.

"I—ahem—yes, I will," he said at last. Draco draped the necklace about Harry's neck and they embraced, sharing a passionate kiss, in the glare of flashbulbs popping and exclamations of astonishment from all those present.

"Far be it from _me_ to interrupt this moment of pre-connubial bliss, mates," said George, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "But you might want to clear out before you incite a riot."

 ** _SAVIOUR OF WIZARDING WORLD TO WED FORMER DEATH EATER_**

 _Evening Prophet—May 1, 2000_

 _Onlookers were astounded as former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy proposed to Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived on the steps of Gringotts Bank this afternoon. It was the first time either wizard had been seen publicly since the stunning revelation of their relationship during the trial of Lucius Malfoy. The younger Malfoy, who, it should be noted, was dressed in muggle attire, presented Potter with a jewel-encrusted necklace, which The Chosen One accepted with an exuberant kiss._

 _"_ _It was absolutely_ unseemly! _" said one witch who witnessed the event._

 _The couple was joined by two of Ginny Weasley's brothers, George—owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and Bill—an employee of Gringotts, who claim that their sister was aware of the relationship and wished them only the best. This reporter attempted to contact Potter's former girlfriend at the Holyhead Harpies training facility, only to be told that the Quidditch star was unavailable for comment._

Once again, the front page of the paper boasted several images of Harry and Draco, the largest photo replaying the couple kissing after Harry accepted Draco's proposal. Harry and Draco went home to quickly share the news with Narcissa, who embraced them both happily, before they all took the floo to the Burrow.

There were shocked faces all around when Harry and Draco stepped out of the floo, followed by Narcissa, and they spied Ginny sitting beside Oliver Wood, who held her hand in his.

"Oliver!" Harry exclaimed.

"Hiya, Harry!" Oliver stood, extending his hand. "Good to see you, mate. If the press is to be believed, congratulations are in order?" He gave Draco a curious look. Harry shook Oliver's hand and then took Draco's as he nodded.

"It's true." He smiled. "So," Harry glanced from him to Ginny. "When did this happen?"

"Only about a fortnight ago," Ginny replied, coming to stand beside Oliver. "Ollie's now a trainer for the Harpies."

"You're not flying for Puddlemere any more?" Draco asked.

"Took a nasty bludger to the head last season. Since then, my reaction time has slowed significantly. Holyhead made me an offer too good to pass up, so I took it. If I can't stay _in_ the game, at least I can stay close to it. Anyway, erm, Ginevra and I had a couple of butterbeers once night after a long practice, and…" he shrugged.

"Well, that's brilliant. Good luck to you," said Harry, giving Ginny a light kiss on the cheek. "I mean it."

"Oi, Potter! Next time, shift your noggin a bit, yeah? My _amazing_ good looks are nearly obscured by that bush on top of your head!" George teased, holding up the paper and striking a pose, to the general laughter of everyone gathered.

"Tea, Narcissa?"

"Yes, thank you, Molly." Narcissa followed Molly into the warm kitchen and took a seat at the large table, gazing around at the mismatched chairs and the stack of well-worn cookbooks on the mantelpiece. She admired the hand-sewn curtains at the window. "You are very skilled at handicrafts."

"Oh, well, I'm flattered!" Molly exclaimed, pouring them each a cup of tea.

"Nearly all of my needlepoint is still kept away in my trousseau. I never had much use for it, given that The Manor was so well appointed. Perhaps now…" Narcissa trailed off wistfully.

"Won't you be returning to Malfoy Manor?"

"I don't think I should wish to return, Molly. Not after all that's happened. Besides, it belongs to Draco now." She sipped her tea.

"Somehow, I'm not certain I can imagine Harry wanting to live there," Molly mused as she sipped her own tea. Narcissa shook her head.

"To be perfectly honest, I'm having a bit of difficulty with that idea myself. All of this has happened so quickly, I don't know what they plan to do."

"Well, they have plenty of time to figure it out. I _do_ hope they'll be happy together. Harry deserves to have someone who truly loves him."

"I was devastated when Draco went abroad, but I knew that he did so to get away, not only from Lucius, but from the constant onslaught of Harry's image everywhere. He yearned for him so desperately. I had discovered early on that my Draco had feelings for him, and I ached to see him suffer with unrequited love, knowing that there was nothing I could do to help him. I am so truly happy that they have one another. Draco _sincerely_ loves Harry."

Harry, Narcissa and Draco stayed for dinner with the Weasleys, after which, George, Ginny and Oliver engaged Draco in an intense debate over which house stood to win the Quidditch Cup, and Hermione and Ron dragged Harry into the scullery.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed breathlessly, indicating the pendant on the necklace.

"I _know_ Hermione, but he doesn't seem to know what it means," replied Harry.

"Are you sure, mate?" asked Ron.

"Riddle never knew anything about the Hallows. He only wanted the Elder wand because he thought he could defeat me with the unbeatable wand. I'm sure even Lucius believed the tale of The Three Brothers to be little more than a child's fiction as well, so there's nothing to say that Draco would decipher its true meaning."

Harry repeated what Draco had said to him during the proposal.

"And this is not the Elder wand," he said. "It's Draco's…the wand I won from him at Malfoy Manor…the one I used to duel Riddle."

"So, have you spoken with your muggle gentleman again?" asked Molly as she and Narcissa enjoyed slices of treacle tart, once again alone in the kitchen.

"I did. I had a cup of tea with him this morning," Narcissa replied with a bashful grin.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Molly exclaimed. She waved her wand to refill her coffee cup.

"He's invited me to meet his daughter tomorrow."

"Well, perhaps you might see for yourself whether or not your fears are unfounded."

Narcissa gripped her fork tightly. "What if they aren't, Molly? What if she is a witch? I simply don't know what I should do," she sighed.

"Narcissa, honestly, I'm surprised at you," Molly admonished. "You've always been a proud witch, filled with confidence. I know that Lucius' behavior has profoundly shaken you, but you've survived it all with dignified grace! If this is meant to be, there's nothing to stop it. You can do this. Think about it! Your _son_ is going to marry _Harry Potter!_ " she gave Narcissa a conspiratorial wink. "Right now, it seems to be the scandal of the year, but as Harry's de facto mother, you and I shall plan the wedding of _the decade!_ "

"That's—that's just…such an amazing coincidence!" Hermione stammered.

"It's almost scary," said Ron. "But perhaps it is meant to be. Harry, you told us during the war that your prophecy said 'neither could live' while the other survived. If Draco had been in love with you all this time, and somewhere deep down you held something for Draco, that wasn't able to exist, to prosper and flower until Riddle was defeated. None of us knew it—he was meant to surrender his wand—to help you defeat Voldemort—you were meant to be together—soulmates."

"I—wow!" Harry breathed.

"Ron, that is so _profound!_ " Hermione gushed. "Whoever would have thought to look at it that way?" She threw her arms around him.

"Always the tone of surprise, innit?"

"No, darling, I—" Hermione spluttered, but Ron shushed her, pressing his lips to hers.

"Oi! You'd better get out here, quick Harry!" George called. "I dunno who left those two alone, but Mum's talking about wedding cakes and marquees in there!"

"Oh, Merlin!" Harry exclaimed. Hermione and Ron embraced him and they marched out to join the others.


	44. Education Otherwise

Narcissa stepped out of the taxi in front of the stately home near the end of the west crescent of The Boltons, in the Brompton district of Kensington and Chelsea. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, lifting her chin as she passed through the gate and made her way up to the door.

Narcissa touched a hand to the pearls at her neck and patted her hair. She'd changed her outfit no less than three times, so nervous had she been, that Harry and Draco called Hermione and begged her to come and help.

"Are you _sure_ this is appropriate?" she'd asked, examining herself in the mirror.

"Absolutely!" Hermione assured her. "You're going on an outing to the zoo. You'll want to be comfortable, but you still look classy."

Narcissa wore a pair of jeans with a white Fred Perry polo shirt and plimsolls. Her hair was pulled back in a neat French braid that hung down her back, and the entire look was pulled together with a green cardigan and pearls about her throat and adorning her ears. A stylish handbag from Burberry hung from the crook of her arm. She took another breath and rang the bell. The door was opened momentarily by a girl with golden hair and light freckles across her nose. She wore an outfit nearly identical to Narcissa's, except where the woman wore trousers, the girl wore a denim skirt with a navy blue cardigan.

"Hello," the girl said, her eyes dancing with curiosity. "Are you Mrs. Malfoy?"

"I am," Narcissa replied. "Are you Morwenna?"

"Yes!" she said brightly. "Please come in!" Morwenna opened the door fully and stepped back to allow Narcissa to enter.

"Morwenna!" a voice came from above, and she looked up the staircase. "Have you seen my mobile?"

Preston appeared on the landing, buttoning his cuffs. Narcissa sighed softly at the sight of him. He wore a crisp, pale blue oxford shirt with cotton twill trousers in navy blue.

"Oh, Narcissa! Do forgive me," he apologized as he descended the stairs. "Generally, I'm never tardy, but I had a bit of a mishap with a cup of coffee and had to change. We'll be ready shortly."

"Your phone is in the kitchen, Daddy," said Morwenna.

"Brilliant! Nearly ready!" He dashed down the hall and descended another flight of stairs.

"He's nervous," said Morwenna. She led Narcissa into a tastefully decorated sitting room and offered her a seat on the couch, bouncing into a matching club chair to one side. "I asked him what time you were coming, and he forgot that he was holding his coffee. He looked at his watch and dumped it all over himself!" she giggled. Narcissa raised a brow.

"Oh, dear! I hope it wasn't terribly hot!"

"Oh, no! Daddy will finish a cup of coffee even if it is ice-cold. Do you like the zoo?" asked Morwenna.

"I must confess, I don't believe I've ever visited one," replied Narcissa.

" _Really? Never?_ " Morwenna looked at her incredulously.

"No. Although, when I was a girl, my family went on safari in Botswana. It was quite amazing! We were as close to a herd of giraffes as you and I are sitting!"

"Wow! Daddy says he'll take me on safari when I am older, but for now, it's the zoo. They have a new reptile exhibit! Do you like snakes? Daddy says you told him you'd once had a bad experience with a snake. Was it on your safari? One time, when I was very little, a snake escaped from a zoo in Surrey and a fat little boy fell into its habitat. I read about it on the internet. After that, all of the zoological gardens changed the safety measures in their reptile exhibits," she said matter-of-factly. Preston appeared before Narcissa could respond.

"I've got my mobile! Shall we go then?" Narcissa and Morwenna looked him up and down and began to giggle. "Do I have toothpaste on my nose?" he asked.

"Daddy, your shoes!" the girl pointed. Preston looked down to see that he was only wearing socks. He slapped his forehead, his face reddening with embarrassment.

"Oh, honestly!" He threw his hands into the air. "I won't be a moment!" he declared, turning to the stairs. Just then the doorbell rang. They continued to titter as they watched him go to the door and open it. "Hello. May I help you? ...I am Morwenna's father."

Narcissa could not see the person on the other side of the door, and though his voice was somewhat muffled, Preston's side of the conversation made it clear the reason for the person's visit.

"I am not sure that I understand…We haven't applied for boarding school." A shiver went up her spine. "Ladies, I'm terribly sorry for this interruption. We shall take our leave as soon as this business is finished. This gentleman informs me that Morwenna has been chosen to attend a select school." Preston stepped back to allow the visitor to enter. "Won't you come in, Mr…"

" _Neville Longbottom?_ " Narcissa leapt to her feet in surprise. Neville was taken aback as he stepped into the foyer and saw her.

" _Mrs. Malfoy?_ What are _you_ doing here?" he asked.

"I—well, I—" she stammered.

"You know each other?" Preston looked from one to the other. Narcissa cleared her throat nervously.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Mr. Longbottom is close friends with my son and his fiancé. Ahem. They all attended school together."

"Oh! Excellent! Well, then, have a seat, Mr. Longbottom. This is most unexpected, but if Narcissa is familiar with the school, then perhaps I should learn more. What did you say the name of it was again? I don't believe I've ever heard of it. You say it's in Scotland?" Preston sat on the couch and gestured for Neville to take the club chair opposite Morwenna, who smiled excitedly.

Neville glanced at Narcissa, who continued to wear a stricken expression. He gave a slight nod in the direction of the couch and she slowly lowered herself beside Preston, sitting as far to the opposite end as possible, looking poised for flight.

"Have you come to bring my Hogwarts letter?" Morwenna asked. All three of the adults looked at the girl in astonishment, although Narcissa's surprise was less so.

"You _know_ about this school?" Preston asked.

"Mm-hm!" she nodded eagerly.

"Narcissa?" Neville murmured, and surreptitiously shifted his gaze to her questioningly. She shook her head adamantly as she wrung her hands. "Yes, Morwenna, I have come to bring your Hogwarts admission letter. However, I am curious as to how you already know of our school. Did your mother tell you about it?" he asked.

"No, sir. I—" Morwenna began.

"Mr. Longbottom, my wife passed away some time ago, and I don't know how she would know—"

"I am aware, Mr. Walcott. That is why I am here. Normally, before September of a child's eleventh year, we post our admissions letters to prospective students with a parent or parents who are alumni of the school." Neville paused, pursing his lips.

"Alumni? I wasn't aware that—"

"This is a bit awkward, as I was unaware of your acquaintance with Mrs. Malfoy, and certainly was not expecting her to be present, but I shall do my best to explain."

"Hogwarts is a school for children with exceptional abilities, such as Morwenna. She likely inherited them from her mother."

"I am afraid that I still don't understand," said Preston, a look of bemusement on his face. "Of course, Morwenna is amazingly intelligent, and—"

"Daddy, Hogwarts is a school for children who can do magic," said Morwenna. "Siobahn got her letter last month and Fidelia got hers a week ago. They're going too!"

"Morwenna, not now with your pen friends, darling."

"But—" she protested.

"Magic is fun for your letters, but it is only make-believe." Preston patted his daughter's knee.

"Preston—" Narcissa began.

"Magic is indeed real, Mr. Walcott. Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry will teach Morwenna how to control and use her magic to benefit her life and—"

"Witchcraft?" Preston narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, sir. Morwenna, like her mother, is a witch," said Neville.

"Narcissa, do you know what this is all about? Is this some sort of joke?" Preston looked at her, and she sighed heavily, her throat feeling constricted.

"Preston, do you remember the other night when we spoke, and you told me about the owl Morwenna inherited from your wife?" He nodded. "Everything that she told you is true. Albus is a post owl." She heard Neville make a strangled sound, but continued to speak. "It's how we send correspondence in the wizarding world. Your wife wasn't joking when she told you that she was a witch. It's why, when you met her, she lived in a house with no modern appliances. Magic interferes with electricity. You spoke of the strange things that happen sometimes with Morwenna. It was her magic expressing itself."

"Morwenna is not a witch! How could you call her such a thing? She can't do magic!"

"Yes, I can!" Morwenna protested.

"Wennie, please!"

"Preston—" Narcissa began.

"I can too!" Morwenna was on her feet now.

"Let her show you," Narcissa said. She looked at the girl and gave her an encouraging smile.

Morwenna closed her eyes tightly and waved her hand. The draperies in the room transformed from pale pink to royal blue. Preston stared, aghast.

"S-so, she's a—and Talaitha?" He looked from Narcissa to Neville. They both nodded. "Then, that means that—"

"I am a witch, Preston. Mr. Longbottom here is a wizard, as are the rest of my family. We all attended Hogwarts."

"If you knew all of this, then why didn't you tell me?" Preston looked at her suspiciously.

"I wanted to, Preston. When you told me about your wife, I immediately suspected that she was a witch, but I couldn't tell you!" Narcissa's heart thudded in her chest like a hammer.

"There is a law, Mr. Walcott, that prevents us from revealing the magical world to non-magical people. Your wife could not tell you either." He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope, passing it to Morwenna, who took it excitedly and ripped it open. "It is why, when a child is born to, or raised by non-magical people such as yourself, the school appoints a staff member to make the notification. Were your wife still alive, this letter would have been sent by post, as I previously stated. It would have been up to her to inform you of the magical world. I understand that this is all quite shocking to you, but I can assure you that Morwenna will receive a stellar education under the tutelage of some of the most prestigious wizards and witches in the United Kingdom."

"Will I get a wand? Fidelia said her parents were taking her to a place called, erm, Di-agonally to buy her a wand. What's that for?" Morwenna asked. She moved on from her admission letter to the supply list. Neville and Narcissa laughed lightly as Preston continued to look from one to another, with a dazed expression.

"It's Diagon Alley, dear." Narcissa opened her purse and took out her wand. "All students are required to have a wand. Obtaining one is a rite of passage. It marks the beginning of one's magical education. I still remember the day that my mother and father took me to Ollivander's to purchase mine."

"How does it work?" Morwenna moved closer to examine the Aspen and Dragon heartstring wand in Narcissa's hand.

"Wands help us to channel our magic and make our spells more effective. _Orchideous!_ " Narcissa conjured a small bouquet of daisies and gave it to her.

"Wow!" Morwenna exclaimed. "Look, Daddy! Mrs. Malfoy made flowers out of thin air! May I try?"

"No, dear. Each wand is unique to its owner. Underage witches and wizards are forbidden from practicing magic outside of school, until they turn seventeen."

"That sucks!" Morwenna declared. "Well, I guess it's like driving a car."

"Y-yes, I—" Narcissa wasn't certain, as she had never driven a car, but guessed there must be some age restriction regarding it. She looked to Neville, who nodded. "I suppose so."

"This is insane!" Preston muttered, his head in his hands. "All this time! All this time, and I never knew! I didn't have a clue!"

"Preston, I wish there was a better way to tell you about our world. I can't imagine what you're thinking—well, actually, I can—until just before I met you, I'd never used a telephone before," said Narcissa. Preston raised his head to stare at her incredulously.

"What? How?"

"Magical interference. The more magic there is surrounding a location, the less able appliances may function. We use other means of communication that are magical. I'd never worn a pair of trousers, read a muggle newspaper—"

"What's a muggle?"

"Non-magical people, like you," she replied. "Until we had lunch the other day, I had never ridden in an automobile. We use magic for many of the things that you require machines to do."

"But what will people say? How do I explain—"

"You don't, Mr. Walcott," said Neville. "The International Statute of Secrecy forbids it. You are only being informed, because you are Morwenna's parent. Your wife would not have been able to tell you until Morwenna received her admission letter, or if she was exhibiting signs of magic earlier. If she had not been selected, you would not have known."

"You don't have to explain anything, Preston. Put it down to eyes playing tricks on you."

"My muggle-born friends simply told their acquaintances that they'd been selected to attend an exclusive boarding school. That usually suffices. Listen, Mr. Walcott, you don't have to make any decisions today. Hogwarts is not a compulsory school, but if your daughter already knows about our world, I would strongly recommend allowing her to attend. It will allow her to learn about her powers in a controlled environment with children like her." He stood. "I am afraid I must go now, as I have other stops to make. If you have further questions, feel free to owl the school. I'm certain that Mrs. Malfoy is also quite capable of answering any questions you have, and she knows how to get in touch with me. Madame, do give Draco and Harry my regards." Neville gave a short bow and disapparated. Preston and Morwenna gasped.

"How did he do that?" she asked excitedly.

"It's called apparition. It is one of the ways in which we use magic to travel," said Narcissa. "One must obtain a license to apparate on one's own. It shows that you have mastered the practice. Some people choose not to apparate at all, and others travel side-along with someone who is skilled in apparition."

"Wicked!" Morwenna exclaimed.

"That's just what I'm afraid of!" Preston exclaimed.

"Preston, my dear, magic isn't bad. Yes, dark magic exists, and there are some who have used it to do harm, but just like in your world, we have laws to punish those who do. You mustn't fear it. I—I understand if you don't believe me. I wish I had been able to tell you when we first got to know one another. Please don't let this affect how deeply you felt about your wife, or your decision regarding Morwenna." Narcissa stood. She waved her wand and transfigured the drapes to their original color before returning it to her purse. "I've enjoyed getting to know you. You don't know it Preston, but it's you who inspired me to trust your world and learn more about it. Thank you." She turned to go.

"Wait! Mrs. Malfoy, don't go!" Morwenna cried. "Daddy, please let me go to Hogwarts! I want to learn about magic! I want to go to school with my friends, Siobahn and Fidelia! Don't be cross with Mrs. Malfoy and Mummy!" The girl climbed into her father's lap. "You said that Mrs. Malfoy reminded you of Mum." She pushed Preston's hair away from his face. "You said that I'm just like Mummy, and now you want me to be different?"

Preston finally wrapped his arms around his daughter, wiping away her tears. "No, love. Daddy doesn't want you to be different."

"All I really have are _your_ memories of Mum. Maybe one of my school mates will have parents who went to school with her, and they can tell me about her too! Perhaps I will even sleep in the same dormitory as she did! Daddy, please don't be in a strop. I thought you really liked Mrs. Malfoy. You've been so different since you met her! You smile for no reason. You talk about her all the time. You were so happy today, that we were all going on an outing. You don't walk about at night like you used to! That has to mean something, doesn't it? If you don't like her because she's a witch, then does that mean that you don't care for me now? What about Mum?" She summoned a picture from the side table. Narcissa noticed an attractive woman, who greatly resembled Morwenna, holding a basket of freshly picked green hellebore, a pair of dragon-hide gloves resting atop the flowers. She wondered if they'd been picked as part of a preparation to make syrup of hellebore for Draught of Peace.

Preston took the picture from his daughter and traced his fingers over the glass, a tear escaping from his eye.

"She was the sweetest, kindest person I'd ever met," he said with a sniffle. "Do you really believe that she would have told me?" Preston looked up at Narcissa.

"I am sure of it. If everything you've told me about her is true, she never truly hid her magic, she was perhaps only waiting for the right time."

"Like…right now?"

"Like right now."


	45. Angels in the Smoke

"What are you looking at?" Draco asked as he entered the kitchen and snagged an apple from a bowl at the center of the table. He leaned over Harry's shoulder as he bit into the tart green fruit with a resounding crunch.

"Just a few brochures. I was thinking perhaps we should purchase an automobile."

"An automobile? What for?" Draco sat down beside him and dragged over a brochure with a photo of a large boxy vehicle driving through a creek. A stylized logo on the cover read _Land Rover._ He turned up his nose and reached for another brochure. This one featured a sleek automobile with a hood ornament depicting a large cat, leaping forth. Emblazoned across the top in silvery letters was the word _Jaguar._ He opened the brochure and admired the vehicles described inside.

"Well, the bikes are nice, but they aren't practical for travel in poor weather, and it limits us to one additional passenger each, who aren't always amenable to riding a motorbike. If we keep the house in Spinner's End, eventually, people will become suspicious of how we manage to transport large items on motorbikes."

"I suppose you have a point, but then we'd have to hire a driver, and those are hard to come by in the wizarding—"

"For Merlin's sake, darling! We don't need a _driver!_ " Harry gave Draco an exasperated look.

"Do _you_ know how to drive?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"As a matter of fact, I do. I _should_ only have a provisional license, but I used a glamour and transfigured my identification so that I could take the practical exam right away. If we buy a car, I can teach you. It isn't difficult."

Draco eyed the Jaguar brochure again.

"Imagine all of the naughty things we can do in a car that we can't do on a bike," said Harry, climbing into his lap and giving him a wink. Draco grinned wickedly.

"I'm not making any promises, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to look at a few vehicles."

"Brilliant!" Harry gave Draco a kiss, rocking his hips against his. "You know, now that the work is done in Cokeworth, we really should have everyone 'round for a barbecue. We can invite the Weasleys and the gang too."

"Arthur and Molly? Socializing with muggles?" Draco gave him a skeptical look.

"I'll have a word with Arthur. Besides, George and Bill will keep an eye on him."

Draco still didn't look convinced. "I'd better brush up on my memory charm." He grinned and leaned up to kiss Harry before he could respond. "Oh, I nearly forgot what I came in here for. Emma rang up my mobile. When Mother and I went to the house the other day, Lucy suggested that her mother might like to meet you and share some memories of growing up with your mother and your grandparents. Emma says that she'd be delighted. You can pop 'round any time."

"Really? You didn't have to do that for me!"

"I wanted to, love. If I could give you the world, I would." He vanished his apple core and brought Harry's fingers to his lips.

"Have you given any thought as to what you will do with The Manor?" Harry asked, a hint of concern in his voice. Draco sighed.

"I don't know, my love. Although it's my ancestral home, it feels tainted somehow. Short of destroying the entire thing and starting over, I don't know if I can bring myself to take over as Lord of the Manor. I'll have to discuss it with Mother eventually, but I don't believe she wishes to return either. She did speak of going to the apartment in Paris. There's also the house in Aragon, or—oh! Do you know about the estate in Nice? It's shared by the Malfoys and the Blacks. Have you been there?"

"I—no. Honestly, there were so many assets listed in Sirius' will, I've yet to examine them all. The goblins were quite thorough in their inventory, but I have yet to scrutinize the list of properties. It seems I do recall something about Nice, and I think a place in Argentina or Mexico—that's where he hid out for a while when he was on the run. Perhaps we can run off on a world tour, and work our way through the list. Where should we begin?"

"How about the villa in Tuscany? I was thinking we might honeymoon there if you'd like. It's not as large as The Manor, but it is quite comfortable. It sits high on a hill above the vineyard with _incredible_ views of the valley below. It has fourteen bedrooms and twelve baths. There's a sauna, and an _amazing_ kitchen. You'll love the beautiful tiled floors and beamed ceilings. We can dine by candlelight on the piazza in the evenings. Then, we can have a lie in and have breakfast by the pool, and later take the children to the vineyard and pick grapes before sharing a bottle with guests at the winery."

"Children? Getting a bit ahead of ourselves aren't we?" Harry toyed with Draco's hair.

"I don't think so. We have plenty of homes with plenty of space for plenty of love to share." Draco lightly rubbed his hands along Harry's sides. Harry smiled down at him.

"Who could have ever imagined that you and I would actually fall in love and find ourselves talking about starting a family?"

"Me." Draco gripped the back of Harry's neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss.

Harry sighed, relaxing into the kiss and carding his fingers through Draco's hair. He rocked his hips down against his. Draco let out a soft moan, gripping Harry's hips to pull him closer as he nipped his bottom lip and pulled on it.

"Ugh! In the _kitchen?_ Really?"

Harry leapt away from Draco and they looked up to see Narcissa standing in the doorway, wearing an amused grin.

"Ahem, Mother! We didn't hear you come in," said Draco, shifting in his chair. Harry turned away to straighten his appearance.

"Clearly! No, don't get up! I only came for a glass of water." She moved around the far side of the table, pursing her lips against the smirk that she wore. She understood the heady blush of true love. Harry cleared his throat.

"How was your trip to the zoo?" he asked.

"We didn't go to the zoo," she replied, summoning a glass of water, and pointing her wand to chill it.

"Why not?" Draco asked. Harry returned to his seat beside him. "What happened?"

"Where did you go?" he asked.

"Diagon Alley." She took a long drink.

" _Diagon Alley?_ " they both exclaimed, eyes wide.

"Mother, I thought that you said this gentleman was a muggle."

"He is. However, apparently his late wife was a witch. His daughter, Morwenna, who will be eleven in a few weeks, received her Hogwarts letter today. By the way, Neville sends his regards." She drained her glass.

"Neville?"

"Yes. Because Preston is widowed, the school sent Neville as a representative to explain everything, as they do with muggleborn students."

"Ohh."

"So, Preston had no idea before today? How did they take it?" asked Harry. He didn't quite like the expression that Narcissa was wearing.

"Well, Morwenna was over the moon. Apparently, she'd already discovered magic on her own. She'd inherited her mother's owl, Albus, and has two pen friends already who will be attending Hogwarts when term begins. The moment Neville walked in, she asked if he was there to deliver her letter."

"Amazing!" Harry declared.

"Yes, she's quite the precocious little one. Preston was shocked, worried, and…" she traced the top of her glass.

"He wanted to know why you didn't tell him yourself," Draco finished.

"Yes. Honestly, I suppose I can understand how he feels. I was horrified to learn that you'd been living among muggles. Their world is so…so big, and noisy. It's so fast and rather frightening at times!"

"Only, everything in the muggle world is real and tangible, and explainable through science," said Harry. "If you study it long enough, you can master it. Muggles simply cannot study magic. They can't practice it. They can't make it happen. That is why it is so frightening to them. It's part of the reason that my aunt and uncle despised me so much. It didn't matter that Petunia knew my mum was a witch; _she_ couldn't do magic, and she wanted to. It didn't help matters that Mum was friends with Severus, whom Petunia _hated._ I think it frightened her that she had no defense, should he try to harm her. You know how vengeful he could be when he was hurt. Sirius said that he knew all manner of dark magic before he even arrived at Hogwarts.

Uncle Vernon knew only what Petunia had told him about magic, which was nothing positive, I assure you. They tried to beat it out of me because they didn't know what else to do with me—and then I set the snake loose in the zoo on Dudley's birthday…"

"You _what?_ " Draco stared at him. Harry rolled his eyes. Draco knew that he was a parselmouth.

"Well, it's Dudley's fault that the glass disappeared. He'd pushed me over when he saw me talking to this Burmese python, and—"

"You had a conversation with a python in the middle of the zoo? Was this in Surrey?" asked Narcissa.

"Yes, how did you know about that?" Harry asked.

"Morwenna said she'd read about it on something called the internet?"

"Oh, yes! It was in the local papers and news. I had no idea that I was a parselmouth until _someone_ summoned a snake during our duel in second year." Harry cast a sideways glance at Draco. He shrugged with a smirk.

"Oh, don't thank _me,_ " he said. "Had that _imbicile,_ Lockhart, vanished the damned thing in the first place, you may never have had reason to speak to it at all. What _did_ you say to it anyway?"

"I simply asked it not to attack Justin. Unfortunately, everyone thought that I was egging it on."

"So true. I couldn't believe that a wizard who wasn't a Slytherin could possibly be so gifted. I was insanely jealous!"

"Yes, I know. You whinged like a prat, if I recall."

"I beg your pardon!"

"In the Slytherin common room… 'Saint Potter! And people actually think that _he's_ heir of Slytherin!'" Harry nudged his shoulder and gave a wink. Draco rolled his eyes.

"So, Mother, will you see him again?"

"I don't know. Morwenna begged to go to Diagon Alley, so we went and I showed them around. He seemed to be a bit less nervous by the time it was finished. They even purchased owl treats for Albus."

"You weren't accosted by the press about us and the trial?"

"I went under a glamour. I haven't quite gotten as far as explaining _everything_ to him. He'd hate me for sure." She grimaced.

"Why is that?"

"His wife was killed in the bridge collapse at Brockdale. How do I tell him that we had a hand in his wife's death?"

" _We_ didn't have a hand in her death, Mother. That was Lucius and his cronies. _We_ weren't there. _We_ didn't do it!" Draco insisted.

"Narcissa, it will be difficult to tell Preston about the war. However, you need not give him all of the sordid details. Be honest. Lucius dragged you and Draco into it. You defected in the end, and you were acquitted. Soon you'll be _my_ mother-in-law, and _his_ daughter will be entering Hogwarts in a period of peace and prosperity."

"Harry is right, Mother. If the relationship is meant to be, it will be." Draco reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. Harry laid his hands on top of theirs.

* * *

The terrace was crowded and noisy as the muggles and mages gathered to celebrate the newly renovated Number Twenty-two Spinner's End. Laughter filled the air along with the fragrance of charred wood and seared meat. George kept himself close to his father's elbow after he'd discovered him in the kitchen turning the knobs of the stove again and again. The former Hogwarts students were amazed to hear the muggles speaking fondly of _Mr. Snape,_ remarking that he had been a strict teacher, who rather favored students in his own house—especially one particular blond with a penchant for mischief. The women cooed over Blythe and Wesley, and Adelayo announced that she and Michael were expecting their first child in January.

Neville took Narcissa aside shortly after the desserts were brought out.

"I asked Professor Flitwick about the roster of First Years. He said that Morwenna Walcott's confirmation arrived this morning. I thought you'd want to know. Honestly, I had no idea that you were even acquainted with any muggles. Mr. Walcott appeared genuinely distressed by all of the revelations. I sincerely apologize for any trouble I may have caused."

"It's quite alright, Neville. Of course you had no way of knowing. I do appreciate you letting me know. The girl was most excited to receive her letter."

"Yes! I wonder how she came to have two magical pen friends. Did you say that her owl's name is Albus?"

"I did." Narcissa smiled. "You know, my first pen friend was the daughter of one of my mother's school mates—Nicollette Hubert—her mother was Violet Bulstrode in school, I believe you might have known her niece, Millicent." Neville pulled a face. She smirked.

"Nicollette grew up in France, so she attended Beauxbatons Academy, but we corresponded regularly. Before the war, we tried to get together whenever I was in Paris. Mother had set up the correspondence with Nicolette's mother. It's likely that Preston's wife had done the same before she passed away. Thank you for that, Neville."

The gathering broke up shortly after, and Harry and Draco decided to take a stroll down to the river.

"I think that was a capital idea, love," said Draco. He laced his fingers with Harry's.

"A good time was had by all," Harry replied. "And Arthur managed not to give himself away—well, once George appointed himself chaperone." They laughed as they entered the park. Harry picked up a rock and tossed it into the river. Draco stood behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"I was thinking," he began.

"Yes?"

"Do we have to have a big wedding?"

"I'm sorry. Have you met Narcissa Malfoy and Molly Weasley?" Harry gave him a mock horrified look.

"Indeed, I have, and frankly I can do without peacocks and ice sculptures with monogrammed table linens—unless that's what _you'd_ like to do. All I really want is to see that pathetic mop of hair and that inane little grin as you gaze rapturously into my eyes," Draco said with a smirk.

"Rapturously?" Harry turned to face him.

"Of course! Do I not fill you with _divine ecstasy?_ " he slid his hands into the back pockets of Harry's jeans. Harry rolled his eyes and leaned in for a kiss, sliding his hands under Draco's jumper. Draco pulled back, eyes narrowed.

"You can't be serious right now! What?" Harry complained

"No, wait—" Draco wrinkled his nose. "Do you smell that?"

Harry stood still and sniffed.

"Is that smoke? I thought we banked the fire, right?" He nervously peered down the street.

"No—I mean—yes! The fire is out, but this is coming from across the river. That _odor—_ it isn't normal smoke—Harry, look!" Draco pointed to the neighborhood on the other side of the water.

Even in the darkness, they could make out the purple tinge to the thick smoke that was rising into the air. Harry inhaled deeper this time, and suddenly recognized the pungent scent. He recalled a frightening experience in Ottery St. Catchpole, with the Class-B Tradeable Material that caused it, as he quickly cast a patronus and summoned assistance.

"Come on!" Harry grabbed Draco's arm and they disapparated.

Firefighters were already on the scene, donning hazmat suits, when they landed just behind an SUV.

"Please stay back, ladies and gentlemen!" shouted a firefighter, herding away the crowd of neighbors who had gathered.

"Is it a gas explosion?" asked one onlooker.

"I've never seen smoke like _that_ before!" said another.

"Look! They're bringing someone out!" pointed a teenager with a ring in her nose.

"It's Cathy!" exclaimed the first onlooker. "Oh, she looks bad!"

The watched as two firefighters loaded a badly burned female onto a stretcher provided by paramedics.

"Where are the children?"

"Children?" Harry asked. The woman standing next to him, clutching a coffee cup, nodded.

"Twins! They're barely four months old!" she declared.

Harry grabbed Draco once more, and they apparated to the back of the house. There, they could see that the explosion had ripped a large hole in the main floor and completely destroyed the attached conservatory. Harry's chest clenched for a moment, the decimated house conjuring a fleeting memory of his own home in Godric's Hollow, and the echo of his mother's voice just before she fell reverberated in his ears.

"Potter!" They whirled around, wands out, and found Gawain Robards with three more Aurors and two Obliviators. "What's the situation? Erumpent horn?"

"Or fluid. We saw it from across the river. The muggles think it was some kind of gas explosion. There was a woman taken from the house already. She's probably at the nearest hospital. Sir, we've just learned that there are infants inside!" Harry pointed up to a window where they could just make out a hanging mobile in the light.

"Okay, Dyer, Lightman, you go in and get this conflagration squelched. Coopersmith, you and Fitzwilliam head to the local hospital and try to find the woman. Kilcannon, deal with the witnesses—that includes the firefighters. Potter, you and—what are you doing here, Malfoy?" Gawain gave him a perplexed look.

"We have some property on the other side of the river," said Harry. We'd just finished a dinner with friends to celebrate our betrothal." Harry fixed Robards with a measured gaze.

"Oh, right. Right. Well, let's get those kids out of there asap!"

Dyer and Lightman transfigured their clothes into hazmat outfits, to blend in with the firefighters in the house and ran inside. The others dispersed to their assigned duties. Harry and Draco apparated into the bedroom on the second floor.

The closed door had prevented smoke from filling the room, but there was a purple haze encroaching from beneath the door, making breathing uncomfortable for the wizards. Two cots were side-by-side near the window. In one lay a dark-haired boy, while the other held a girl with auburn-colored hair. Both were wide awake, rasping coughs intermittently disrupting their wails.

" _Suffoco Contrarium!_ " declared Draco, pointing his wand at one of the children. Harry did the same. Immediately, the children's coughing stopped. They each scooped up an infant, covering their faces with the blankets from their cradles, and disapparated.

When they landed, Gawain Robards repeated the airway relief spell on Draco and Harry.

"There's an ambulance out front. Dyer and Lightfoot are waiting to _drive_ you to the hospital," he said, touching his nose as he arched a brow. "We'll wrap things up here, and I'll send in an investigator to meet you there."

"Sir?" Harry gave him a questioning look.

"As I recall, Potter, you are on suspension—or leave of absence, according to The Minister. Either way, this isn't your case." He waved his wand, and Harry and Draco were wearing hazmat suits. "Now, get going!"

* * *

Ron was waiting when they arrived at St. Mungo's and reluctantly handed the children over to pediatric healers.

"You certainly manage to get a lot of work done for someone who is supposed to be on sabbatical, mate," he said. Harry shrugged.

"Well, if Draco hadn't noticed the smoke, those two little tykes might not have made it out." He thumbed over his shoulder at Draco, who stood at the door of the children's emergency ward, peering through the window. "How's the mother?"

Ron shook his head. Harry's shoulders slumped.

"We were able to speak to her a bit before she expired," said Ron. "She told Coopersmith and Fitzwilliam that she had ordered ingredients for an Invigoration Draught. She's alone with the two children and simply run off her feet.

Anyway, she insisted that the phial was labeled stewed mandrake, but when she poured the fluid into her cauldron, immediately the purple smoke billowed out and the next thing she knew, she was in an ambulance. That was all we could get before she suddenly stopped breathing. The healers tried to revive her, but they said the fumes from the erumpent smoke had shredded her lungs. Apparently, she was too close to the blast. They're surprised she wasn't killed instantly." Ron shuddered. Harry knew he was thinking about their own narrow escape from the Lovegood's house when Xenophilius had accidently blown up an erumpent horn. He nodded with understanding.

"Does anybody know about the children's father? A husband?"

"I had a hospital clerk check her records. Looks like the husband passed away last June—dragon pox."

"Dragon pox? But that's curable, isn't it?"

"Yes, but apparently, his body had been significantly weakened by having suffered scrofungulus during the war—they'd been in hiding."

"Dammit!" Harry swore. "So, either she accidentally poured the wrong ingredient into her potion, or someone sold her intentionally mislabeled Class-B tradeable materials." Ron nodded with a shrug.

"Looks that way, mate. Magical Accidents and Catastrophes is going over the site and looking for clues."

"Sorry, Ron, I was just leaving that new Quidditch gym when—oh, hi, Harry. What are you doing here?" Alicia Spinnet strode up the corridor, her robes slightly rumpled. She tightened a band around her dark hair, pulling it into a ponytail as she approached.

"Harry and Draco reported the incident. They're the ones who rescued the children," said Ron. "Alicia is a representative with the Wizengamot Office of Juvenile Welfare."

"Oh. Okay, then." She gave Draco a measured look before extending her hand. Draco shook it firmly, giving her a tight smile. The matron and another nurse emerged from the ward, carrying both children who were now sleeping quietly.

"Both little angels will be just fine. They may have a lingering cough for a day or two, but they've suffered no serious ill effects." The matron smiled.

"What happens to them now?" Draco asked.

"They'll go into care for the night. Then we'll check for next of kin. If there isn't anyone, we will have to find foster carers to take them in," said Alicia. "I'll need to get some information from the two of you before you go."

"Care?"

"Yes. I've contacted the matron at Amddifad House. They're still quite overcrowded after the war, with so many displaced children still needing homes, but she's agreed to take them in the interim."

Draco looked stricken, while Harry thought of the orphanage he saw in Dumbledore's memory of Tom Riddle. They looked at the babies, and then at one another.

* * *

"Preston?" Narcissa answered her phone warily.

"Hello, Narcissa. Have I caught you at an inopportune time?" he asked.

"No. Not at all. The boys hosted a barbecue for their friends this evening. I'm actually just returning." She curled up on the window seat and looked out into the garden where the moonlight danced on the cascading water of the fountain.

"Oh, that sounds like fun. I just wanted you to know that I have decided to allow Morwenna to attend the school—Hogwarts."

"I am pleased to hear that, Preston. I know that it is a big step when your only child goes away to school. I'm certain that she will fit in just fine, and come to love it dearly as most Hogwarts students do."

"You make it sound like a wonderful place," he said.

"It is! I have so many fond memories of my days there." She smiled to herself.

"Narcissa, I want to apologize for the way I reacted the other day. I just felt so blindsided. The trip to what was it—Diagon Alley? That was definitely an eye-opening experience. Will I be able to accompany Morwenna on future visits?"

"I think so. Muggle-born children can generally take their parents along to help them purchase their school supplies and exchange money at the bank." Narcissa hoped that what she had said was true. It seemed that she recalled seeing Hermione's parents with her before the start of Draco's second year, in which her ex-husband engaged Arthur Weasley in a verbal altercation at Flourish and Blotts.

"Erm. Perhaps you would like to join us again? We could probably benefit from knowing someone familiar with everything. Of course, I understand if you don't wish to continue getting to know one another. I certainly behaved quite indecorously in the beginning. I honestly hope I haven't irreparably damaged our budding relationship. It's just that I—well, I always thought that magic was nothing more than sleight of hand, and tricks of the eye. It's certainly nothing like the witchcraft I learned about in history growing up."

"That is because we have carefully crafted the way in which we deal with your kind for centuries. Unfortunately, sometimes it has come with devastating consequences for both sides," said Narcissa. She tucked her knees up to her chest and wrapped her free arm around her legs.

"Oh."

"Preston," she began, and heaved a sigh. "I'm sure that you're wondering why I changed my appearance when we went to Diagon Alley. I know that I explained that Harry is something of a high-profile celebrity, and he and Draco have recently gotten engaged. That's only part of the truth. Morwenna will no doubt read all about it in her History of Magic curriculum, and many of her new friends in the wizarding world will already know the stories, but I want you to hear it from me first-hand."

Narcissa went on to tell Preston about Lord Voldemort and the Wizarding Wars, as well as Lucius' involvement with the Death Eaters and their postbellum acquittals, carefully editing and excluding information about the attack on the bridge, which claimed Preston's wife, while fervently hoping that the event would not appear in the new History of Magic textbook.

"My husband stubbornly never learned from his misdeeds or showed gratitude that we should be spared punishment for what we had done," she said. "When he learned that Draco did not favor women, and in fact had carried a torch for Harry Potter himself, he was only consumed with revenge. He didn't think twice about nearly killing me in order to carry out his plan." She took a deep breath, and brushed away a tear. "Despite Lucius' transgressions, my son and I regret our part in that terrible period, and we have endeavoured to grow and change. I've never had a muggle friend before I met you, Preston. You've shown me a whole new world that I want to learn so much more about. I understand if you do not wish to continue our relationship. I only wanted you to hear my story from me alone."

There was silence on the other side, and Narcissa thought that Preston might have disconnected, when suddenly he spoke.

"I—I don't know what to say," he stammered. "Would Talaitha—do you think she knew—about the war, I mean?"

"I don't know of many in our world who didn't know. There were so many terrible things happening at the time." Narcissa held her breath.

"You don't—you don't think that the bridge collapse—"

"I-I don't know, Preston. Honestly." Her voice shook even as she spoke, and Narcissa could no longer hold back her tears. "J-just know that although the Statute of Secrecy might have been the main reason that Talaitha never told you that she was a witch, if she knew of the war, she kept that secret to protect you and Morwenna."

* * *

Harry and Draco wore dazed expressions as they wandered the baby care aisle of the Tesco, each pushing a pram that they'd conjured before leaving the hospital. Ron had shaken his head incredulously when the pair suggested that they look after the twins.

"The Prophet is going to have a _field day!_ " he declared.

"Let them," said Draco. "Alicia said that the care home is overcrowded with children needing families."

"And if anyone knows what it is like to grow up without parents, I certainly do," said Harry.

"You didn't grow up in an orphanage," Ron countered.

"I might as well have, for all the affection I received," Harry replied. "And we all know of one very destructive wizard who _did._ "

That statement effectively ended the debate, and the pair now found themselves at a loss among the myriad options for bottle feeding, nappies and baby toiletries. They guessed at the essentials, figuring that they could ask the women they knew later, and loaded up. The tired-looking clerk perked up when they reached the counter with their haul.

"That's not _nearly_ enough for twins, y'know."

"We weren't expecting them for another few weeks," replied Harry. "Imagine our surprise when the agency called, asking us to meet them at Heathrow, just an hour ago!"

"This ought to get us through the night at least, I should think," said Draco with more confidence than he felt.

"Well, good luck," she said. "That'll be thirty-six pound, fifty."

Harry paid her, and they were off, stopping in the nearest alley to shrink everything to handheld size before they disapparated.

Narcissa sighed heavily, resting her chin on her knees as she continued to sit on the window seat. She'd cried in earnest when her call ended, Preston saying that he needed time to process all that she'd told him. She was certain that it would be the last time she would hear his voice, and she silently hoped that she hadn't changed his mind about allowing Morwenna to attend Hogwarts. Suddenly, she heard an unfamiliar sound and lifted her head.

She looked out into the garden, searching the area for the source of the insistent mewling sound, but was unsurprised to find it as quiet as ever. There were no cats at Number Twelve, and she wouldn't think that any could wander into the hidden property. She stood, gripping her wand and went to the hall. The noise seemed louder here, emanating from the kitchen. As she descended the stairs to the lower level, she was certain that what she initially thought were cats, was now the sound of infants wailing. Narcissa pushed open the kitchen door and stood dumbfounded.

"Apparently, one should not attempt to apparate with an infant," Harry stated, bouncing a dark-haired boy in his arms, while Draco uncertainly rocked a girl with Titian hair.

" _Why_ are you apparating with young babies, and _to whom_ do these children belong?" Narcissa inquired as she closed the distance between herself and the wizards. "Cradle them like this." She adjusted each baby, stroking their heads. "Well?"

The children began to quiet as Harry and Draco related the events surrounding the explosion and death of the children's mother, and their rescue.

"…and Alicia said that the orphanage is already over capacity—" said Harry.

"—and so we just suggested that the children stay in our care," Draco finished.

Narcissa sat in the nearest chair and shook her head in disbelief. "I sincerely hope that you don't expect _me_ to look after these little darlings while the two of you go gallivanting around the globe doing Merlin knows what." She pursed her lips and waved her wand, conjuring two Moses baskets, lined in quilted satin. "You know they don't yet sleep through the night."

She took each child and settled them each in a basket, tucking in their blankets.

"There we are!" she cooed. "That's better, isn't it? Yes!"

Harry and Draco watched with thinly veiled amusement.

"You think she'll let us have them back?" Harry whispered.

"Mother? Change a nappy? Without a nanny or a house-elf?" Draco murmured. "Oh, absolutely! I doubt Mother ever saw my packet after the day the midwife laid me in her arms."


	46. Water

_**Draco quotes Beethoven's letters to his Immortal Beloved._

* * *

Draco placed four silver daggers on the velvet pad which protected the jewelry counter. He then spread two parchments on the counter, each held detailed renderings that had been drawn by Dean.

"I assume that these will yield enough metal to create the items indicated?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, sir!" the jeweler exclaimed. "When would you like them?"

"I am willing to pay premium if they are available for me to pick up by six p.m." Draco replied.

"Erm…" the wizard pulled a nervous face.

"The Malfoy and Black families have been exclusive clients of this establishment for centuries. With _my_ recommendation, Harry Potter shall be one for years to come, as well." He arched a brow, his finger tapping one of the drawings.

"Of-of course, Mr. Malfoy. I shall see to their creation personally. Please return at six p.m., sir to pick up your purchases." The jeweler smiled.

"Thank you. Of course, I do not need to insist that the utmost discretion be used regarding this request."

"Of course, sir." The jeweler tapped his wand against the parchment, and the drawings faded away. Draco paid a deposit and left the store.

As Draco stepped into the street, he was immediately seized by the arm and felt the pressing sensation of disapparition. They landed in a darkened corner of Knockturn Alley, and Draco's wand was immediately at his abductor's throat.

"Are you _mad,_ Zabini!" he hissed.

"I knew you wouldn't speak to me otherwise," Blaise replied, his arms crossed as he eyed Draco's wand with disdain and brushed it aside.

"You're bloody well right!" Draco snapped. He turned to go, but Blaise grabbed his arm again. Draco glared at him in astonished fury.

"First, you disappear without so much as an owl, to say goodbye, and when you _do_ return, you declare to the world that you're _marrying Harry Potter!_ "

"What do you _want,_ Blaise?"

"I want to know what happened to _us!_ " he hissed.

" _Us?_ There was no _us!_ You were betrothed to Hester Burke almost immediately after the Battle! Don't think I hadn't heard about the wedding, and isn't she pregnant?"

"What is your point, Draco? When did marriage even matter to you? Oh, let me guess, the moment you _finally_ got Potter up your arse!"

"You are treading on dangerous ground, Zabini!" Draco's voice was low and tight as he took a step forward. "I am not the same Draco you knew before."

Blaise snorted, closing the distance between them. "Funny, you look the same to me." He traced his hand down Draco's torso until he reached his waist. "As distasteful as they are, I must admit that you look delicious in muggle attire." Blaise grabbed his waistband and reached with his other hand to palm his crotch. Draco grabbed his wrist.

"Stop."

"You know you miss me," said Blaise, his voice low and gravelly. He twined his fingers in Draco's hair to pull him in for a kiss. Draco leaned away, tightening his grip on the other's wrist.

"I said Stop!"

Blaise felt a stinging sensation beneath the blond's ring finger. A second later, there was a wand at his throat.

"I can't imagine why you feel the need to be in such _close_ proximity to my fiancé, Zabini," Harry whispered close to his ear. "But whatever perverse intentions you had for accosting him here, let me remind you…it has been attested to before the Wizengamot that his dueling skills are as battle ready as ever! Therefore, I suggest you go about your business elsewhere." Harry pressed the tip of his wand into Blaise's chin to punctuate his statement. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Ahem. Crystal," Blaise replied, hoarsely.

Harry lowered his wand and gestured up the alley. "After you."

Draco released his wrist, his expression cool, as Blaise's amber eyes met his. Blaise looked him up and down with a sneer.

"Should have known you'd be a wand queen!" He rolled his eyes and strode up the alley, disapparating after a few yards.

"Wand queen?" Harry looked at Draco quizzically.

"A queer with a preference for powerful wizards," he replied with a grimace as he stared at the spot from which Blaise had disappeared.

" _Do_ you have a preference for powerful wizards?" Harry asked.

"Seeing as I've been in love with you forever, that'd seem like a 'yes,' but were that true, I'd never have given _him_ the time of day. I'd only tried him on to deal with my frustration when you left school, and I was worried whether you were okay."

"Did you really?"

"Everyday and every night, my immortal beloved. I wished my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits, and prayed to the gods that should you meet your end while we were yet apart, to throw me at that very moment to the kiss of the dementors, for no one else could ever possess my heart as you had done." Draco turned to Harry and kissed him tenderly. "I am sorry that you had to see that, love. I swear to you that there is nothing between me and Blaise."

"I belive you, dearest. We should go. There's a lot we need to get done before tonight."

* * *

George Weasley spread a large parchment on the table where he was sequestered with Harry and Draco, in a darkened corner of The Leaky Cauldron.

"I think this is going to be my most popular product yet!" he pronounced. "If the trials do well, I'll be able to open up an American location."

"What exactly does it do?" asked Harry.

"Anything that comes into contact with it, is immediately transformed."

"Anything?" Draco's voice was skeptical.

"Anything. You don't even need a spell. It's a flawless potion! See…" George went on to explain the concept of his new potion, and the other two wizards huddled over the parchment.

"You gents like a refill?" asked the serving wench. George immediately touched his wand to the parchments and the images disappeared. They declined and she moved to the next table where a wizard in flashy robes sat sipping a brandy. He leaned back on his bench in order to better hear the conversation taking place just beyond.

"The thing is, I don't want to commit all of my available R and D capital to the venture. Because it's a new potion, I've got to have it tested by a Ministry-Approved potions laboratory at my own cost."

"It's too bad that my Apothecary doesn't currently have an approved laboratory at the moment. I'd be happy to run it through," said Draco.

"You wouldn't happen to know of another who could provide quick turnaround, would you?" George asked.

"Have you tried Slughorn?"

"You think he'd do it?" George sounded skeptical.

"If the old Slug thought he had an opportunity to put his name on the next best thing in potions, I'm sure he'd _jump_ at the chance," said Harry.

"Too right!" Draco concurred.

"You know, George, you and Fred have paid out handsomely on my initial investment in the business. What do you say to me throwing a few Galleons into this venture?" asked Harry.

"Well, what are we talking?" George asked.

"I don't know, quarter of a million?" he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Sure! This looks like an excellent idea. It's bound to pay out immediately. What do you think love? You're definitely more learned in potion-making than I."

"I think it's a capital idea," said Draco. "Count me in too, for two-fifty as well."

"Wow, mates! This is far more than I'd hoped when I asked you for input. I'll get back to you as soon as I hear from Slughorn."

The trio shook hands and Harry and Draco stood.

"Don't forget about tonight," said Harry. "Seven o'clock sharp at Kingsley's."

"Right. I've got everything you asked for."

The couple disapparated and George began to gather up his things, just as a wizard in brightly colored robes approached his table.

"George Weasley, right? Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

"Who wants to know?" George eyed the man suspiciously. The man's blinding blue robes, trimmed in shooting stars, and his foppish manner reminded him of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher they'd suffered with during his and Fred's fourth year at Hogwarts, Gilderoy Lockhart. The wizard extended his hand, a business card pinched between his index and middle fingers.

"Hiram Lightfinger, Proprietor of Nostrum Wholesale Apothecary." He slid into one of the empty chairs. "May I buy you a drink?"

"I'm afraid I have some business to attend. Perhaps some other time." George flicked his wand and his parchments shrank to the size of an envelope, which he then slipped into the pocket of his robes and stood.

"I can make it worth your while. I only need a moment of your time." He flashed a brilliant smile—obviously a well-crafted glamour. "I understand you're in need of a product test?"

"Do you have a Ministry certificate?" George asked, hopefully.

"Alas, no. However, I _do_ have the means to ease the way for your Tradeable Materials approval. Horace Slughorn and I go back a ways."

"Well, thank you for your offer, but I think I'll be fine." George turned once more.

"Suit yourself." Lightfinger flicked his wand and the business card zoomed into the air in front of George. "Keep the card—in case you change your mind."

George frowned, plucking the card out of the air and stuffing it into his pocket before striding out of the pub.

* * *

 ** _Evening Prophet—Good News (p. 2)_**

 _Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy Wed in Private Ceremony_

 _Chosen One, Harry Potter wed Draco Malfoy last evening in a private ceremony at the home of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Known guests in attendance include Golden Trio members and power couple, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley; Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall and Professors, Filius Flitwick, Neville Longbottom, Horace Slughorn, and Rubeus Hagrid; Battle of Hogwarts Veterans, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley and The Weasley Family, Hannah Abbott, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Also in attendance were Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks, with her grandson, Edward Lupin. Iolanthe Massey, a relative of Potter and descendant of one of America's original Aurors, Abraham Potter, was also said to be in attendance, along with a few unnamed guests._

 _According to our sources, the entire event was a casual affair. The ceremony was officiated by the Minister of Magic himself. The couple, who recently rescued infant twins from their home following a suspicious explosion in which their mother perished, has chosen to postpone their honeymoon as they care for the children._

* * *

 ** _Evening Prophet—Bad News (p. 2)_**

 _Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy Wed in Private Ceremony_

 _Chosen One, Harry Potter wed Draco Malfoy last evening in a private ceremony at the home of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Known guests in attendance include Golden Trio members and power couple, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley; Hogwarts Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall and Professors, Filius Flitwick, Neville Longbottom, Horace Slughorn, and Rubeus Hagrid; Battle of Hogwarts Veterans, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley and The Weasley Family, Hannah Abbott, Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Also in attendance were Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks, with her grandson, Edward Lupin. Iolanthe Massey, a relative of Potter and descendant of one of America's original Aurors, Abraham Potter was also said to be in attendance, along with a few unnamed guests._

 _According to our sources, the entire event was a casual affair. The ceremony was officiated by the Minister of Magic himself. The couple, who recently rescued infant twins from their home following a suspicious explosion in which their mother perished, has chosen to postpone their honeymoon as they care for the children._

* * *

"To Harry and Draco!" Dean declared, lifting his glass.

"Harry and Draco!" the guests echoed.

Harry and Draco took a sip of champagne before kissing one another again as a band of fairies danced about behind them. They posed for an endless number of photos taken by the autocameras—a new product that George had designed—cameras on enchanted tripods which moved around the room or area. All one had to do was stop and stand in front of the camera, and it would begin to take pictures. Hermione rushed up to the newlyweds and hugged them.

"A surprise wedding! It's brilliant!" she declared.

"Well, it was the only thing we could think of that would keep the press at bay. Nobody would really notice if The Minister has a private dinner party with friends."

They were greeting their other guests, accepting hugs and well-wishes, when they saw a handsome gentleman and a girl with a bright and curious expression enter the garden. They were immediately greeted by Neville, who waved Harry and Draco over. Draco took Harry's hand and they made their way across the garden.

"Mr. Walcott, I presume?" he said.

"Yes. You must be Draco?" Preston nodded. "This is my daughter Morwenna. Pardon us for our tardiness. There was a bit of a traffic snarl at Cromwell Road. Thank you for inviting us."

"Well, after speaking with Mother, I got the idea that perhaps you might feel more comfortable with allowing Morwenna to attend Hogwarts, if you were to actually _meet_ some of the people who have attended the school, and who teach there." Morwenna's eyes lit up as he spoke. "First, please allow me to introduce my husband, Harry Potter."

" _You're the real Harry Potter?_ " she asked with wonder. "My pen friend Fidelia says you're the most powerful wizard in the _world!_ " Harry smiled and shook her hand.

"How do you do, Morwenna? I don't think I'm the most powerful wizard, but perhaps the luckiest."

"Baby!" exclaimed two-year-old Teddy Lupin, gripping the edge of one Moses basket, and peering at the smiling baby girl. He laughed when she giggled, his hair turning bright blue.

"Come, Teddy." Andromeda Tonks lifted her grandson into her lap and offered him a small piece of cake.

"It's all so unbelievable, really! Cissy, I'm so happy you're okay!" she exclaimed. Narcissa had just finished relating all of the events surrounding Lucius' arrest and conviction.

"Andromeda, will you ever forgive me for turning against you and Edward?" Narcissa asked, her voice full of regret.

"I forgave you a long time ago, Cissy. I know that it was Mother and Father's influence—then Lucius'—which made you think in such a way, but you learned. I am only sorry that you had to endure so much in order to reach that understanding."

"I nearly lost my Draco," she said sadly.

"Yes, but look at him now! Who would ever have believed all _this_ was brewing? Did you know at all?" Andromeda asked.

"I discovered early on that Draco was infatuated with Harry. By the time I discerned that it was much deeper, there was nothing that I could do. 'Bella was watching too closely, and—"

"I understand." Andromeda placed a hand on her sister's. "I wish we could have saved her. She was just too far gone." The sisters sat in silence for a moment. "Harry and Draco mentioned that you've met someone new—is it true that he's a muggle?"

Narcissa nodded and let out a heavy-hearted sigh.

"What is it?" Andromeda asked. Her sister described how she came to meet Preston and the disastrous encounter when Neville arrived to deliver Morwenna's Hogwarts letter.

"…and I haven't spoken to him since." Narcissa sighed again. "The moment he mentioned the bridge collapse, I knew it wasn't meant to be. Oh, Annie! I've been such a fool!" Narcissa sniffed.

"Don't cwy, Cissy!" Teddy climbed into Narcissa's lap, and patted her face. He scrunched up his face, and his ears grew pointed tips. Narcissa smiled reluctantly and he laughed.

"Mrs. Malfoy!"

Narcissa looked up in surprise to see Morwenna running towards her, carefully dodging the other guests.

"Morwenna? What are you doing here?" she asked, as the girl embraced her. Teddy looked at her with suspicion.

"Your son invited us!" she exclaimed. "You know Harry Potter?"

"Hawweee!" Teddy exclaimed. His hair turned purple. Morwenna let out a gasp.

"How did you _do_ that?"

"Teddy's a metamorphagus. They can change their appearance at will," explained Harry as he approached with Draco and Preston in tow. He lifted Teddy from Narcissa's lap. "Morwenna, have you ever heard of Quidditch?"

"Oh, yes! My pen friend, Siobahn plays. I don't quite think I understand it very well, though. Is it really possible to fly on a broom?"

"It is! You'll learn when you get to school. How would you like to meet a professional Quidditch player?" he asked. Her eyes grew as wide as saucers.

"Really?"

"Her name is Ginny Weasley. I played with her and three of her brothers, on our house team, at Hogwarts. In fact, there are some other friends of mine here, who also played. One time, when we were playing against Slytherin…" With Teddy in his arms, Harry led Morwenna away as he continued to regale her with Quidditch stories, leaving the others behind.

"Molly!" Andromeda exclaimed. "That dress is exquisite!" She smiled broadly and drifted away to speak with the Weasley matriarch. Draco kissed Narcissa's cheek.

"Thank you for looking after the children during the ceremony, Mother. I'll just take them inside and see if The Minister's elf can prepare some bottles for them." Draco gave his wand a swish and a flick, levitating the baby baskets, and the crowd parted to allow them passage.

Narcissa reached up and nervously smoothed a hand over her hair, although there was not a strand out of place in the impeccable chignon she had pinned to her crown. Preston shoved his hands into his pockets.

"So, your new son-in-law is quite the big deal, yes?"

"Erm, yes. He's the one who is ultimately responsible for our current state of well-being."

"This is a lovely affair. Your government doesn't prohibit same-sex marriage, then?"

"No. It generally doesn't much matter in our world. Only some of the older pureblood families tend not to approve. Your muggle government does not allow it?"

"Unfortunately, no. There are groups petitioning Parliament for change, but thus far, they have been unsuccessful."

They lapsed into silence once more.

"Narcissa—Preston, I—" they spoke at the same time. "Forgive me. No, you go on." They chuckled with embarrassment.

"Narcissa, I was quite confused and distraught after we spoke. I just didn't understand or know how to deal with all of this." He gestured around the garden, where fairies flitted through the air and a house elf circulated, hovering trays with drinks and hors d'oeuvres, while George entertained Iolanthe's children and Morwenna with miniature fireworks. "Much of what I observed during our excursion to Diagon Alley reminded me of Talaitha—the herbs, and her little cures—I didn't know that they were magical potions—and the owls! I couldn't believe that I never paid attention to it all! I went to our storage and pulled out her old journals. It was all there! She'd written of her ambivalence over whether to tell me when Morwenna was born, or wait until she was accepted to Hogwarts, even though she'd already recognized that our girl was showing signs of magic.

"She was terrified that I wouldn't understand. Talaitha's mother was what do you call us—muggles?" he asked. Narcissa nodded. "When she was seven, Talaitha accidentally destroyed their television. Her father told her mother that he was a wizard and Laithie was a witch. That night, her mother packed her things and left without a word. Talaitha believed that telling me meant losing me." Preston sighed heavily. "In my heart of hearts, Narcissa, I wish I could say that I would never have abandoned my family—the love of my life—but knowing the way in which I behaved towards you when I _did_ find out—I can't help but wonder, and feel guilty about the idea that I might have broken Morwenna's heart in the same way." Preston's expression was full of regret. Narcissa took his hand.

"My sister," she pointed to where Andromeda continued to chat with Molly and Hermione. "Andromeda married a man whose parents were both muggles. My family disowned her for it. It was very painful for me when she left home, because we had been closer than I was with my other sister, Bellatrix. However, I believed in family duty, and eventually, I closed myself to her as well. I lost _years_ with her because of it. I never truly got to know my brother-in-law, or my neice, and now I can't make amends with either of them—they were killed in the war, along with Andromeda's son-in-law. Teddy, her grandson, only has the stories that she and others will tell him about his parents and grandfather. I can't tell you what is right, Preston. I can only encourage you to pour your heart into Morwenna. Even though she will grow and learn to do amazing things that you may never be able to fathom, she will never stop needing her father."

* * *

George extricated himself from the excited group of children, leaving them with a Reusable Hangman toy from his shop, and pulled Harry to the side.

"Did he go for it?" Harry asked.

"Looks that way. I brushed him off, but he seemed determined to get involved. Even claimed he could 'ease the way' with Tradeable Materials.

"That's interesting. I wonder if he's paying off someone in that office. Well, give us a couple of days, and then contact him."

"What if he checks in with Slughorn?" George asked.

"Let me handle that. Slughorn _hates_ to get his hands dirty. You know Slytherins." He raised a brow.

"Not _nearly_ as well as you do, mate!" George teased, ribbing Harry, who rolled his eyes.

"If I didn't know that you were completely smitten with Angelina, I'd suggest you try it on with one sometime." Harry winked when George spluttered, champagne dribbling down his chin.

"Is that why you invited her?" he asked.

"C'mon mate. Stop beating around the bush. Ask her out already! She went to the Yule ball with you didn't she?"

"But that was ages ago!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, George! Ginny said it was you and Fred who encouraged her to be brave. She said when she was little, you didn't fear anything! Angelina may not be willing to wait as long as Draco. Go for it!" Harry gave him a nudge in Angelina's direction before wandering through the crowd in search of his new husband.

Harry found Draco in the sitting room, both children nestled in his arms, as he walked a circle, softly intoning to them.

"…and when you get older, we'll take you to King's Cross Station where you'll board the Hogwarts Express for the biggest adventure of your life! Of course, you'll have to be in Slytherin House, because it's the best, but don't tell Daddy Harry. He thinks icky old Gryffindor is—"

"The house you _really_ want to be in, my darlings!" Harry rolled his eyes with a grin and lifted the boy into his arms. "So what's this? _Daddy Harry?_ "

"Well, I was thinking, maybe…" Draco smiled wistfully.

"I must admit that the thought had crossed my mind as well. I'm just—I don't want to get my hopes up and then Alicia arrives at the last minute and says that they've found some long lost relative to take them in." Harry sighed, nuzzling his nose into the baby's hair. What he left unsaid was the idea that sometimes blood is no substitute for love and compassion in a child's life.

"Well, there's nothing wrong with wishful thinking," said Draco with a smile.

"We'll have our family soon enough, and they'll be brave and loyal Gryffindors like dear old Dad." Harry grinned. He leaned in for a kiss just as Arthur appeared and snapped their picture.

* * *

"Are you there, Harry?" George's head appeared in the fireplace at Number Twelve a few days later.

"Yeah. What's up, George?" he asked softly.

"Is this a bad time?" George asked, noting the level of Harry's voice.

"No, not at all. The children are sleeping."

"Oh." George lowered his voice. "Well, Lightfinger just entered the shop downstairs. I think he's going to try the hard sell."

"Okay, see if you can stall him down in the shop for a few minutes while I fetch Draco and see if Narcissa can keep an eye on the babies for a few minutes."

"Will do." George disappeared in a swirl of green.

Less than five minutes passed before Draco and Harry stepped out of the floo and into the apartment above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. They joined George around a large work table on the shop's second floor, where they engaged in a deep conversation. There was a knock at the door.

"Yes!"

"There's a Hiram Lightfinger to see you." George's clerk, Verity, opened the door slightly and leaned in.

"Ah, yes. Just a moment." He quickly shuffled parchments on the table and cleared his throat. "Show him in."

Hiram Lightfoot stepped into the room wearing a broad, salesman smile. George rose to greet him, while Harry and Draco eyed him warily.

"What's this Weasley?" Draco asked with annoyance.

"How do you do? Hiram Lightfinger, Nostrum Wholesale Apothecary." He held out his hand.

Draco looked him up and down with an expression of disdain. Lightfoot wore robes of bright red, embroidered with sun symbols and accented with gold lamé lapels and turned cuffs.

"Mr. Lightfinger, I believe you know my associates, Draco Malfoy, proprietor of Malfoy Apothecary, and of course Harry Potter."

"Yes, yes! An absolute honor to meet you, Mr. Potter!" Lightfinger gushed, practically bowing to Harry, who arched a brow and began to trace circles on the back of the hand that Draco had rested on the table. "Oh, yes! I understand congratulations are in order, yes?"

"Thank you," Harry replied curtly. "George, can we get back to business? We promised Narcissa we wouldn't be long."

"Of course. So then, Mr. Lightfinger, what can I do for you?" George asked, resuming his seat.

"Well, I was wondering if you had had any success with your testing predicament?"

"You _told_ him about the product?" Draco sat up, angrily. In the process, he scattered a few of the parchments.

"Well, we _were_ meeting in a public house, Malfoy. He simply overheard." George retorted.

"Calm down, love." Harry patted Draco's arm.

"I will not! I can't believe Slughorn has the _nerve_ to request such a ludicrous fee for testing the product! Now this!" He sneered at Lightfinger. "I suppose you want in on the deal?"

"Well, I—"

"George, how do we even know that he can be trusted?" asked Harry.

"Listen, Harry, Draco, to be perfectly honest, sales are only just beginning to move apace since the end of the war. If I didn't have to worry about the added cost of research and development, I could put more money into production. What could it hurt if Mr. Lightfinger came aboard?"

"He's the competition!" Draco insisted.

"So are you, Draco!"

"George!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well, it's true. If the two of you would like to up your initial offering, then I'll consider it, otherwise, I really do have the final say. The Washout Potion is too good an idea to shelve."

Draco huffed, turning away. Harry leaned to whisper in his ear while Lightfinger surreptitiously eyed the drawings on the table. The couple's whispering grew more agitated, until finally Draco huffed again, pursing his lips.

"Fine. How much do _you_ have to offer?"

"Well, I'd have to have a look at your concept—"

"Mr. Lightfinger, I have no doubt that you know me, and you know the reputation of my father. I know how men like you operate. You've already done your homework, and no doubt have been examining Weasley's drawings since you entered the room. Make your bid, or move on."

"Alright then," said Lightfinger. "One million."

"One million?" George exclaimed.

" _Plus,_ your testing fees."

"But you don't even know what—"

"On one condition," said Lightfinger.

"You can't be serious!" Draco exclaimed.

"Calm down, sweetheart." Harry patted his arm.

"What's that?" asked George.

"Nostrum receives one third profit—"

"Are you mad?" Draco leapt to his feet, but Lightfinger was unperturbed.

" _And_ a distribution deal."

"Preposterous! He will _steal_ your profits!" Draco shouted.

"Nonsense! I will _double_ your profits! I have markets in Europe, Asia and the Americas. I guarantee, your sales will triple in less than three months! You couldn't do better if you were selling water! In fact," he bragged. "You could begin production right now. Slap a few labels on some enchanted water, and voila! Mages are so desperate for easy and cheap remedies, they'll buy erumpent fluid dressed as stewed mandrake!" he laughed. The best part is—the sales order expressly states that one brews at their own risk! _And_ the company is still held in my cousin Gilderoy's name!" he laughed, paying no attention to the three wizards who looked on with cool expressions.

"Gilderoy Lockhart is your cousin?" George asked.

"Oh, sure! Before he set out on his _grand_ adventures, we were in business together. When he snagged the post at Hogwarts, Gildy insisted on buying me out. I ran things, but I was only ever a salaried employee. He's the real owner, but his mind is so addled now, that it was easy to get him to sign away the profits to me! Brilliant, yeah?"

George crossed his arms, his expression hard. "You know what, gents? I think you're right. We don't need another investor. You have what you want, don't you Harry?"

"I think so. Is Ron still upstairs?" Harry conjured a phial and touched his wand to his temple, drawing away a silver wisp of memory. Draco did the same, both depositing them into the crystal receptacles.

"Oh, Ronniekins!" George called. Seconds later, Ron apparated into the room. "We've made your case, little brother!"

"Hiram Lightfinger, I am arresting you for fraud and gross negligent manslaughter in the death of one Mrs. Stella Whitmore, and for endangering the welfare of a minor. You do not have to provide any memories, however, any memories you yield may be given in evidence. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on. Anything you do say, with or without veritaserum, may be given in evidence. Do you understand?"

After Ron had bound Lightfinger and disapparated, George sat back in his chair and stared at Harry in amazement.

"Only _you_ , Harry, could manage to arrest someone while on your day off." He shook his head. Harry shrugged.

"Well, it was Ron who actually arrested him."

"But how did you come up with such a ruse?"

"That was all Draco." Harry nudged Draco's shoulder.

"Greed will get them every time. Anyone who would stoop to falsely labelling a product in order to make his sales, will jump at an opportunity to take on another scam. Most likely, he'd swindled some other potioneer or a smuggler out of the erumpent fluid. All we had to do was make him believe that he was going to get something for nothing."

"But he wasn't. He was offering to pay into the investment, and cover my so-called testing fees."

"He was probably running the same scam on us that we were running on him. Didn't you see him trying to get a look at the drawings? He planned to distract us somehow, probably banking on the argument becoming bigger than it was, and use a duplication spell on them. He'd say he was going to pay in, then come back later and say that there was a problem with his accounts. Notice how he brought up Lockhart? I'll bet he was going to say that his money was still tied up with Lockhart, and he needed us to pay to help get Lockhart's funds released from impound. As soon as he had our money and plans, he'd flee. Like he said, Nostrum is in Lockhart's name."

"If he's anything like Gilderoy Lockhart was before the accident, he's a genius at memory charms. No one would have been able to trace him," said Harry.

"Darling, we really must go. You did promise Mother that we wouldn't be long. The little ones will be wanting their dinner," Draco admonished.

"Yes, love, but George, I have one more question. What exactly _was_ this so-called amazing potion?" asked Harry. "The drawings look like water in a pitcher."

"That's because it _is_ water in a pitcher. What else immediately transforms things immediately on contact? Water washes away dirt, wears away stone, and most fabrics and other porous materials become darker when wet." George gave a wry grin.

* * *

The house was quiet when they returned, and there was a note hovering near the fireplace with Narcissa's neat script on the front. Draco took it and read the short message, letting out a chuckle.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"Mother has taken the children with her to visit the Walcotts—at _Morwenna's insistence—_ she claims." He pulled an amused face. "She says not to expect them until morning."

"Well, well! It appears that she and her gentleman friend have managed to work things out," remarked Harry.

"Indeed!"

"Well then, hubby, whatever shall we do with ourselves?" Harry asked, plucking the note from Draco's hand, and pulling him close.

"Hmm…given that we've not yet had a honeymoon, I think someone's in need of some playtime." Draco grinned wickedly.

* * *

"Fucking, Merlin, Harry! What the hell happened up here?" Draco looked around the expansive attic, and turned up his nose. The floor was littered with debris and long scratches grooved the floorboards. Here and there bits of down clung to the slats in the walls, and large feathers were scattered about.

"Oh, yeah. Did I not mention that your favorite giant chicken used to live up here?"

"My—that hippogriff? I thought it had escaped from Hogwarts just before it was to be put to death."

"It did. Sort of—Hermione had a—" He stopped short of mentioning the time-turner that Hermione had used during their third year. "Well, we rescued it and then helped Sirius escape from the tower. He fled the castle with Buckbeak, and hid him here for a while when this was headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix." They vanished the detritus and freshened the space with a cleaning spell.

Draco conjured a chair and sprawled in it. He held out his hand for Harry's wand. Harry handed it over. Draco gestured for him to kneel.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Of course I do, my love," replied Harry, looking at him curiously.

"There is something I'd like to do, but I must absolutely have your trust and understanding that I will take care of you, and undo all of the spells that I have cast."

"You would never hurt me, right?" Harry asked.

"Of course not. Do you remember when you first returned to Boston, and we had that little skirmish over breakfast?" Harry nodded. "I was angry that you were besting me, and I cast a spell."

"I remember. Neville and Tia were quite upset about it, but none of you would tell me what it was."

"It is an ancient spell. Neville discovered it on his travels. He taught it to me when he trained me. Very few witches and wizards know of it. I should say we are _most_ fortunate that The Dark Lord did not appear to have knowledge of it. Occasionally, we've employed it in play with some of our more exclusive magical clients, but it's always done nonverbally—like the spell the Aurors use to restrain criminals."

"Okay, why are you telling me all this? I trust you to free me from whatever restraints you create. You know that, my dear."

"This isn't a simple binding spell. _Restis Incantamentum!"_ Draco swirled his wand.

"Nothing happened," said Harry, a bemused expression on his face.

"You think so?" Draco stood. "Disarm me."

"You have my wand."

"And you are more than capable of summoning without a wand. Take it."

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Harry said, firmly. Draco's wand hand didn't even so much as twitch.

"The curse robs one's opponent of his magic," said Draco.

"What?!" Harry made to stand.

"I didn't say that you could move!" Draco snapped. He flicked his wand and Harry felt a sting in his chest. " _Do_ you trust me, my immortal beloved?" He waited. "Never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved."

"I—ahem—I trust you," Harry said at last, his voice barely a whisper.

"Very good, my love. Now then, remove your clothes."

Harry slid one leg forward, and hesitated.

"You may stand."

Harry stood and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. He peeled it away from his body and tossed it aside. Next, he toed off his shoes and turned away from his husband, taking his time to unbutton his trousers. Once done, he bent forward, displaying his taut ass as he deliberately slid them down his legs and stepped out of them. Turning back to Draco, he lowered himself back to his knees.

"You are so fucking beautiful!" Draco breathed. He flicked his wand. " _Stricta Pugnus! Signasti Statumen_."

Harry's hands curled into immovable fists and his wrists were shackled and chained to a post on either side of him, spreading his arms wide. Immediately, he felt the blood rushing to his cock. Draco noticed as well, his lips curved into a smirk.

"I always knew that you wanted it." He conjured a flogger and ran his fingers through the falls as he circled him. Draco came to a stop in front of Harry and stared down at him. He rubbed a hand over his own bulging crotch and Harry licked his lips. "Not yet, love. You'll have to earn it."

He moved behind Harry and twirled the flogger in his hand, the falls lightly brushing over his back. The stimulation warmed Harry and he exhaled audibly.

"Aaahhhh!"

Draco slowly increased in intensity, until he was drawing his arm back and swinging the flogger like a beater's bat, the slap of the leather against flesh echoing in the space.

"You like it don't you?" Draco swung the flogger, smiling as Harry's ass danced with the impact, glowing bright read. "Don't you?"

"Yes!"

"You want more, don't you?" Draco moved around and struck him across his chest.

"Oh! Ah! Yes!"

"Beg for it! Say ' _Please,_ Master Pravus, may I have another'!" He struck his washboard abs.

"Oh! P-please—please!"

"That is _not_ what I said!" Draco hit him again.

"Fuck! Please—may—Master—ah! Master Pravus, may I have another!"

Draco swung the flogger, striking his hip. On the follow-through, the falls swiped across Harry's rock-hard prick, and he cried out, bucking forward. Draco dropped the flogger. He crouched in front of Harry.

"Too much for you, Potty? Hm? Or not enough?" He held his wand at the base of Harry's balls, arching a brow. He grabbed Harry's hair and pulled his head back, licking up his throat. " _Dolor Sempra!"_ he hissed. Harry shuddered and writhed as the current rushed through his groin and stopped. A few seconds later, he was jarred by the sensation again.

"Aargh!" he growled.

Draco stood, and freed his cock from his trousers. He grabbed Harry by the hair again and shoved into his mouth.

"Oh! Fuck! Yes! Fucking hell, Potty! You give such fucking good head! Fuck! Take it all!"

Harry relaxed and swallowed as Draco abused his throat. He closed his eyes, the intermittent pulses torturing him as his dick bobbed and shuddered in need of release. He moaned desperately. Draco felt himself tipping close to the edge and backed away.

" _Finite Incantatem!_ You don't fucking deserve my cum yet. " _Verpa Ligatum!_ " A thin cord wrapped itself around Harry's balls and the base of his shaft. " _Resigno Apertus!_ "

"Ohhh!" Harry wriggled in anticipation. Draco snorted.

"Greedy bastard aren't we?" He conjured a plug that looked to be crafted of emerald and held it up. Draco licked the smooth toy as he circled Harry, then bent and slid it into his ass.

"Mmmmm!"

"So glad you like it. That ought to hold you for a bit while I go for a snack."

" _What! No!_ " Harry protested as he watched Draco head for the stairs. "Draco—"

" _Langlock!_ Cheers!" Draco descended, ignoring Harry's muffled cries.

" _Fuck!_ " Harry grunted. He tugged at his bonds fruitlessly. " _Sonofabitch!_ " He knew better than to trust Draco, and he angrily berated himself as he tried to think of a way to free himself, straining to recall the countercurse that Neville had used. His ass and cock ached from the fullness of the plug and the torturous constriction of the ligature. Draco just _had_ to come back for him. He promised! He'd better! He didn't notice the ripple in the air as a figure ascended the stairs and pointed a wand at him.

" _Stupefy!_ " Harry was startled by the flash of blue, but as he was unable to move far, he was barely able to vocalize his shock before he slumped forward, held up only by his restraints.

* * *

 _Rennervate!_ Harry stirred, slowly opening his eyes. He was no longer chained to the posts, but now tied spread eagle, his back arched above the floor. The anal plug had been replaced with a hook which tormented him each time he moved. Draco's warm, lubricated hand moved slowly over his cock, gripping it tightly.

"Wakey-wakey, love!" he sang.

"Unh!" He found that he still could not speak.

"Is Daddy's bitch ready for more?" Draco squeezed his balls, giving them a tug.

"Mmmm! Hmmm! Hmmm!" Harry groaned, pulling at his restraints, the tension heightening the sensation in his ass.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, nudging the hook, and working Harry's ass just a bit.

"Uuunnnnhhhhhh!" Harry moaned.

"Are we ready to cum?" Draco stroked his own cock as he moved to stand over him.

"Mm hm! Mm hm!" He nodded vigorously.

"Show me!" Draco knelt, straddling Harry's head and lifted the jinx. "Worship my cock!" Harry opened his mouth and it was immediately filled with Draco's rod. "Mmm, get it nice and hard, so I can fuck you good!"

Draco rolled his hips down and rode Harry's face as he stroked his cock.

"Fuck, yes! Suck that cock, bitch!" Draco shifted down, his balls covering Harry's nose, and his prick filling his throat.

Harry bucked and writhed, the loose flesh of Draco's scrotum closing his nostrils as he inhaled deeply, struggling for breath. Draco finally lifted away, withdrawing his cock, and he took in a rasping gulp of air.

"Lick my ass! Lick it!" Draco commanded, spreading his cheeks. Harry lapped at his pink bloom, pressing the tip of his tongue in. "Ohh! Merlin! Ohh!" He sat on Harry's face again.

"Mmph! Mm! Mmph!" Harry could no longer feel his extremities, the bindings digging into his flesh. He ached for release. He gasped for breath when Draco rose to his feet. "Please! Master Pravus, please let me cum! Oh, _fuck!_ "

Draco flicked his wand and Harry rose higher into the air, until the ropes binding him were taut, his head hung back, leaving him staring upside down at the wall. Draco vanished the hook and slid his fingers inside, nudging his prostate.

"Oh, Godric! _Please!_ " he begged.

"Shut it, or you get nothing!" Draco snapped, scissoring his fingers. Harry bit his lip, breathing heavily.

Draco closed his eyes as Harry clenched around his fingers. He wanted to tease and torment him further, but his cock was aching for release. Slowly, he pressed into Harry, gripping his hips firmly. The tight heat enveloped him and he let out a low growl, closing his eyes as he began to move.

"Fucking, fuck! I love the way you feel around me! Ohhhhh!" Draco moved faster, digging his fingers into Harry's hips.

"Yes, oh, fuck! Yes!" Harry cried. He squeezed his eyes closed and focused intently on Draco.

"What the—How did you—Oh! _Fuuuck!_ " Draco flinched in surprise, faltering as his opening relaxed and he nearly collapsed he was filled with the unmistakeable likeness of his husband's lubricated prick sliding into his ass and fucking him in concert with his own thrusts into Harry. "Oh my—oh, fuck! Shit! Fuck! Shit! Salazar! Fuck!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Merlin, oh!"

"Oh, fuck!"

"Oh, Draco! Fuck!" Harry's dick pulsed.

"Fucking hell!" Draco shuddered. He let out a guttural moan as his orgasm shook him, his legs trembling, barely able to support him.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhh! Ungh! Ungh!" Harry convulsed, his cum spurting out over his torso.

Draco unbound Harry and they lay in a tangled heap on the floor, catching their breath.

"I can't believe you stunned me!" Harry said.

"You have to admit, the switch up was amazing, wasn't it?" Harry shrugged, pulling Draco closer, and resting his head on his chest. Draco lightly stroked his fingers over Harry's arm. "Did you remember the counter-curse?" he asked after a few minutes.

"No. I tried to. I was furious when you left me. But then, Godric, you felt so good inside me, and I wanted you to feel what I was feeling. I just did it—I went for what I was thinking." Draco sat up and stared at Harry, an expression of consternation on his face. "What?" Harry sat up, eyes full of concern.

Draco shook his head. "You may deny it all you wish."

"Deny what?" Harry asked. Draco continued to shake his head in awe.

"You _are_ the most powerful wizard in the world."

Harry captured Draco's face in his hands. "Whatever I am," he nipped his lips. "I am all yours." He pulled him in for a deeper kiss.

"Ever thine, ever mine, ever ours."


	47. Storge

** _Storge means "love, affection"; the common or natural empathy, like that felt by parents for offspring._

* * *

Olivia Balfour opened the door, smiling expectantly at the two young men who were lifting infant carriers from the back of what appeared to be a brand new Jaguar sedan.

"Oh, my goodness! Come in! Come in! Just _look_ at these little _darlings!_ " she exclaimed as they entered the foyer of the neat house. "I'm Olivia Balfour, and you must be Harry! I recognize—"

"My mother's eyes, yes?"

"You must hear that a lot, then?"

"I do. This is my partner, Draco Malfoy."

"How do you do? Please, have a seat!" Mrs. Balfour was an elegant-looking woman with short, dark hair, with just a hint of gray, that framed her face. She was simply dressed, wearing a lightweight jumper and capri-length slacks with ballerina flats.

Harry and Draco sat across from her on a comfortable leather sofa, placing the children's carriers just at their feet. Both babies stared curiously at their surroundings.

"I am so pleased to meet you! I often wondered about you, Harry. I remember your parents were so happy when you were born! Sadly, Petunia didn't visit much after, and then your grandparents passed, and she stopped coming around the neighborhood at all. I hope you'll excuse my honesty, but Tuney wasn't terribly well-liked by the other kids in the community." Mrs. Balfour made an apologetic expression.

"That isn't surprising. She tends to be rather stiff. My uncle, Vernon is rather uptight in his own way too. I guess you could say that they're made for one another." He shrugged.

"Does he still work for the—what was it—a bolt maker company?"

"Drills—Grunnings Drills, yes. He was promoted to director a few years ago."

"Oh, I'm certain Petunia must have been soo proud!" she chuckled sardonically. Harry gave a snort and grinned. "So! What are you up to these days? It looks like you've gotten a jump on starting a family!" She cooed at the babies, who gurgled in response.

"Well, I'm a silent partner in a company that sells novelty products, and I am currently completing my pupillage with CPS."

"Oh, my! A businessman! Flora and Harold would have been so proud. They doted on your mother and your aunt. And what about you, young man? Draco is it? What do you do?" she asked with an interested smile.

"Oh, well, erm, I've recently taken over our family business. We own a number of chemist shops in the South of England."

"Well, that is just wonderful! So young, and already successful! But then, I suppose you had a rather substantial trust. I do remember hearing your gran tell my Mum that your father came from a wealthy family. She was so pleased that Lily was marrying up. I remember that she was soo smitten with him, but it took awhile for him to get her to let him chat her up seriously. The first year that she went away to school, she wrote that he was the most pompous boy she'd ever met! Apparently, he was rather mean to her friend from across the river, Severus. Of course, I met Severus once. He was a bit aloof and bookish. I think he was defensive about being a mill boy, and kids from our side of the river did tend to look down on the kids from over by the mill. Still, your mother was in a class of her own. Kind and compassionate to everyone, and those two were thick as thieves, at least until your parents started dating. Then Lily said they'd had a bit of a falling out. Apparently, he'd insulted her pretty badly."

"Truth be told, Mrs. Balfour, Severus had a pretty serious infatuation with my mother, so he was very hurt when she and dad began to see one another. He hadn't quite gotten over it when I arrived at school."

"Severus Snape became a teacher! Who _ever_ would have guessed?" she exclaimed.

The older woman showed them several photos from her youth, many of which included his mother. There were even a few photos of her with Severus, pictures from her parents' wedding, and she'd kept Harry's birth announcement which included a tiny photo of newborn Harry, wrapped in a blue blanket. He was always startled to see himself without the scar on his forehead, which Draco also mentioned as seemingly unnatural.

"Did you get the scar in the accident?" Mrs. Balfour asked. Harry briefly brushed aside his long bangs as he nodded. "How intriguing!" she exclaimed. "It looks like a lightning bolt!"

They chatted amiably for a while before the children began to grow restless. Draco and Harry each picked up an infant, offering a bottle.

"They are quite adorable! Did you choose a surrogate, or adopt?"

"We're only fostering," said Draco. "The council is still looking for next of kin."

"Next of kin? Oh! The parents are—"

"The father died some time before shortly before they were born, and their mother was, erm, gravely injured in the explosion that happened just last week."

"You mean that _terrible_ tragedy just over the way?" Mrs. Balfour gasped. "That was so heartbreaking! Oh, _you_ were the good Samaritans who rescued the children! I do remember reading about that. You know, Harry, isn't it frighteningly ironic that you and these little angels survived the same type of terrible calamity? Peculiar that this little one has the same shade of hair as your mother, yes? Perhaps it was fate that brought you together."

Mrs. Balfour insisted that they stay for lunch, during which Emma and Cole dropped in with Benjamin. Emma gushed over the children, offering plenty of unsolicited parenting advice, and lightheartedly teasing the couple for not inviting their friends to their commitment ceremony.

"Maybe one day the collective people will realize it's not so bad, and allow you guys to actually marry," she smiled. Draco and Harry smiled, knowing that was a worry they needn't consider. They soon made their goodbyes, driving to a disused petrol station just outside of town, where they shrank the car and apparated home.

* * *

The children were much calmer when they arrived home this time, having been instructed by Molly and Narcissa to put two drops of Draught of Peace into their milk bottles and feeding them at least five minutes before apparating.

They took them to the drawing room where they placed them into the baskets for a nap. Draco took up the paper and began to read, while Harry conjured silver and gold butterflies to hover above them, and soon both infants were sleeping soundly.

"Look at this," Draco said. He crawled over to sit beside Harry on the floor between the two baskets, and showed him the paper. Harry rested his chin on his shoulder and read the article that Draco pointed to. "It says that Amddifad House is excluding children aged ten and older who have been determined to be squibs."

"That's horrible! The Ministry is allowing it?"

"Apparently, so. With families reluctant to take them, and a shortage of eligible homes for displaced children who do show signs of magic, the matron claims there simply isn't room."

"Well, it looks like Muggle Liaison is attempting to place them in muggle care, but the numbers are raising suspicion."

Draco gazed up at the glittering butterflies and then at the quietly sleeping infants with a sigh. "What if one of these children was a squib?" he asked. "Would you love them any less?"

"How could I? I know what it's like to be despised for what you are by the people who are supposed to love you. I would never—"

Draco was silent for a long moment, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He lightly fingered the lace at the boy's basket. "No, never."

* * *

 _Late August 2000_

Garrick Ollivander looked up when the bell above his shop door clanged. He was startled to discover Narcissa Malfoy entering the shop, holding the hand of a young girl, and accompanied by a man who was clearly a muggle.

"Madame Malfoy, how may I assist you today?" he eyed her warily.

"Mr. Ollivander, I would like to introduce Miss Morwenna Walcott and her father Preston Walcott. This young lady would like to purchase a wand for school."

"Ah! Welcome, Miss Walcott! Ollivander's demeanor immediately brightened. He summoned a small stack of narrow boxes, placing them on the counter. "Come, my dear. This is a most auspicious day! Do not worry if the first wand you select does not choose you. This is a process."

"I'm sorry," said Preston. "Do you not mean that she will choose her wand?"

"Oh, no, sir!" the old wizard exclaimed. "The wand chooses the wizard—or in this case, the witch. Each witch or wizard will be able to channel his or her magic through almost any instrument. However, the best results always come where there is the strongest kinship between the witch and the wand…An initial magnetism, and then a mutual quest for experience, the wand learning from the witch, the witch learning from the wand."

Narcissa recalled the wandmaker giving her a similar speech when she purchased her first wand, and again when she brought Draco to purchase his wand. Clearly, the old mage found this to be his best selling point. Morwenna timidly stepped up to the counter and examined the wands that had been set out.

"I wish Mum were here," she said, briefly looking back at her father. He gave her an encouraging smile.

She gazed at a wand whose wood was a pale cream color with a subtle hint of pink. Its shaft was crafted in a spiral, and the hilt embossed with carved filigree. She picked it up, and immediately felt a thrumming sensation surge through her body. Morwenna let out a gasp.

"Whoooaaa!"

"Wennie?" Preston nervously started, but Narcissa took his hand and gave him a smile.

"It's alright, love. That's a good thing. It means that the wand has chosen her."

"Ah! Beech wood! Eleven-and-a-quarter inches! This one has a core of thunderbird tail. I don't often get American materials here, but this makes for an exceptionally powerful wand, highly prized by those with a gift for transfiguration. These wands have an affinity for youth who are wise beyond their years. I expect this one shall make quite a name for herself at Hogwarts!"

"I hope I am half as good as my mum," said Morwenna.

"Oh, your mother is a witch?" asked Ollivander.

"Yes, sir. She died a few years ago."

"I am so sorry to hear that. May I ask what her name was?"

"Talaitha Walcott—well, née Perfect—Talaitha Perfect was her maiden name," said Preston.

"Oh, yes! I remember every wand I have ever sold, young lady. I recall a sprightly young witch who came to my shop with _her_ father, some years ago, and she _too_ was chosen by a very similar wand—beech, with a unicorn hair core. I shall say, you, my dear will no doubt have a bright future."

* * *

The ornate, iron gate swung silently open and Harry followed Draco between the hedgerows that bordered the lane leading to the massive house at Malfoy Manor. Draco pointed his wand and the massive front doors opened as they approached.

"Welcome home, Master Draco." A tiny house elf appeared and gave a low bow. "Is Master wanting anything, sir?"

"No, Tickety, thank you." The elf raised his head sharply and stared at Draco in shock.

"What is it?" he asked, looking around.

"Master Draco is thanking Tickety! Tickety is never receiving _thanks_ before!"

"Well, things have changed a bit, and I appreciate that you have offered to serve me today. Now, off with you. We shall call if we need anything."

Again, the little elf gawked at Draco before bowing and disapparating with a loud crack. Draco shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly turned, looking around the grand foyer as if he'd never visited the house before.

"I don't even know where to begin," he said. "It all seems so foreign to me now."

"Why don't you show me around," suggested Harry.

"Well, I suppose, if you really want to see it all."

Draco showed Harry the magnificent grounds of Malfoy Manor, the palatial conservatories where Narcissa had cultivated some of the finest roses and exotic flowers in the region, the stables that housed magnificent horses, and the kennel where Lucius' pedigree Scottish deerhounds, and Draco's greyhounds were lodged.

* * *

Harry let out a sigh of astonishment when Draco showed him into the nursery. The suite was massive, with a play area, library, bedroom and en suite bath. The walls of the playroom were pale gray with crème-colored wainscot paneling and crown moulding. There was a border at the top of the wall depicting dragons that soared and dipped through the clouds as they were pursued by gallant wizards on brooms. An archway with pocket doors separated it from the library which featured a chalkboard and child-sized desk along with a well-stocked wall of bookshelves that reached the ceiling. The play area was a child's fantasy. There were stuffed animals of every type. A sofa and side chairs, perfectly sized for a child, were arranged in front of the fireplace which had a safety screen in front of it. There was a rocking pony and a ride-on dragon of similar design. Shelves along one wall held a chess board, backgammon, a deck of exploding snap cards, gobstones and other games, some of which Harry recognized, others he assumed were magical games he'd not yet heard of. On another shelf, there were several figurines of dragons in crystal, wood, stone and precious metals. A large table held an elaborate toy train. There was also an assortment of small brooms arranged in one corner.

The bedroom featured a large ornately carved canopy bed. A tufted bench sat at the foot of the bed and a rocking chair was placed beside the fireplace. All of the suite's décor featured a dragonfly motif in muted shades of blue and green.

"It's like the toy department at Selfridges!" Harry exclaimed.

"Is that the muggle place which sells the luxury goods? Like, erm…Barney's in New York?" Draco asked.

"It's called a department store. Have you not been there?"

"I'm afraid I still know the muggle world in America much better than here," Draco replied.

"Of course," said Harry. "Still, I _knew_ Dudley's two bedrooms couldn't compete with your suite."

"Oh, my suite is down the corridor. I haven't slept here since I was eight."

Harry rolled his eyes. He was about to retort when he noticed Draco go to the shelf and pick up a figurine of a winged jade dragon. It was carved to resemble a Welsh Green.

"I remember once, I was playing with this dragon and I accidentally snapped off its wing. See here." He pointed to a crack where the dragon's wing attached to its body. "Mother was out for the day, but I didn't know, and I entered their suite without knocking. He was in bed with Polina Karkaroff."

"Was she related to Igor Karkaroff, from Durmstrang? His sister?"

"His _wife!_ "

"Merlin!"

"It was the first time I had ever seen a naked woman, and I just stood there staring at them, wondering what they were doing, and why it sounded so painful." Draco chuckled slightly.

"When he noticed me standing there, he was furious and hit me with a knockback jinx that threw me into the wall and broke my collarbone." Harry gasped. "He wouldn't even take me to St. Mungo's. He locked me in the chamber beneath the drawing room. Dobby let me out and mended the drago for me. Of course he was punished for it later, although he went along with the story I'd told Mother; that I tried to fly my toy broom from the balcony of the nursery and fell. By the time I first boarded the train to Hogwarts, I'd had a broken wrist, a broken jaw, and a cracked eye socket. Dobby patched me up time and again, and we devised a number of lies to Mother. I don't know that she always believed us, but given that I rarely saw her without sleeves covering her arms, I can understand why she did nothing."

Draco gently placed the figurine back on the shelf, and picked up another. This sculpture was not of a dragon however. It was a winged horse.

"I'm not an only child, you know." Draco's voice was barely a whisper.

"What?" Harry stared at Draco, who was lightly fingering the intricately carved wings of the ornament.

"When I was two, mother gave birth to another boy, Perseus. He was born during Litha, not long after my own birthday." Draco turned the winged horse in his hands, his gaze focused somewhere far away. "I can still see him so vividly, even now. I recall he was astonishingly beautiful. He wasn't blond like the rest of us. His hair was black, but his eyes were steely blue, like pure crystallite titanium." He sighed. "It seemed that Lucius hated him immediately, and accused Mother of having had an affair, despite the fact that his coloring was the only difference between his appearance and mine. But then, he didn't show any signs of having magic."

Draco fell silent, and Harry stood still. After more than a minute, Harry opened his mouth to ask what happened, when Draco began to speak again.

"It was my birthday. I was eight. Perseus was six. Lucius took us for a carriage ride near the lake just beyond the stables. There is an old weeping willow tree there, and we'd sat beneath the canopy. There were dragonflies everywhere, and I thought they were fairies. I chased them for what seemed to be ages, when Lucius finally called to me and said it was time to go. I didn't see Perseus anywhere. I asked, and was told simply that he was gone. When I insisted that we look for him, I had my ears boxed for impertinence." He let out a hollow, mirthless laugh. "Lucius told Mother that I lost my footing as I chased the dragonflies and accidentally pushed him into the lake; that he drowned before he could be saved."

Harry let out a horrified gasp.

"My fingerprints were on that wand because I stole it. I took it when I turned eleven. I thought I could bring him back. I summoned him. I tried to drain the lake. I dove all the way to the bottom, but I never found him. I don't know if he even actually drowned. After all, I didn't see it happen. I—" Draco paused, studying the figurine as if he didn't know how it had come to be in his hands. "The first time I saw you—in Madam Malkin's—you were so small—I thought for just a moment that you might be him—until I saw your eyes. I _had_ to know you. Even when you rejected me—I wanted you." He stared up at the collection of dragons on the shelf.

"I used to wonder, what kind of wizard doesn't save his own child? That was before I realized that some wizards only view their offspring as commodities to be used, discarded, and sold."

Draco wiped away a tear. Harry wrapped his arms around him, and kissed the back of his neck, remembering his own miserable childhood, and an idea began to take shape in his head.

"So, is this why a young wizard with white-blond hair was jealous of a certain boy-who-lived? He never knew that the raven-haired object of his affection also suffered beatings and isolation at the hands of those who were supposed to care for him." His husband shuddered, nodding silently. "I promise, I will never let anyone hurt you again. We will never allow such pain and misery in our family."

Draco turned to him with watery eyes and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. They held each other for a long time before returning home.

* * *

"Is everything okay?" asked Hermione, when they stepped out of the fireplace.

"Yeah," Harry replied. "Thanks for watching the kids."

"It was my pleasure. They're so adorable, and—" she let out a horrified squeak. "Ronald Weasley!"

"Looks like you might have a Quidditch player in this one, yeah?" He had levitated the boy up near the ceiling, where the child giggled and summoned a ball from the floor.

"Weaselby, if you injure my child, I will shrink you to the size of a lemon and feed you to my owl," threatened Draco. Ronald carefully brought the babbling child down, sending him to Draco's arms.

"Relax, Malfoy. George does this all the time with Victoire. She loves it!"

The soft gong of the floo sounded.

"Harry? Draco? Are you there?" It was Alicia Spinnet. Harry and Draco gave one another a nervous glance.

"Yes, come on through, Alicia," replied Harry. A second later, the witch stepped from the swirling green flames.

"Oh, I didn't know that you had guests," she said, greeting Ron and Hermione.

"We were just leaving," said Hermione.

"No, it's fine. Please stay," said Harry. "Have a seat, Alicia."

"Thank you." She took a seat in a comfortable side chair as Draco joined Harry on the chesterfield across from her, gripping his hand.

"Do you have news?" he asked, anxiously.

"I do." Alicia opened her attache. "The Ministry has not been able to locate a living next of kin for the children, and so has moved on to review your application for a formal adoption." She took out a folder and shuffled a number of parchments.

Draco and Harry were on the edge of their seats. Hermione and Ron shared a hopeful look as they stood behind them.

"There is one small problem," said Alicia. Harry swallowed to rid himself of the lump that formed in his throat, while Draco took several measured breaths to ease the tension in his chest.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

"Is it something that we can easily correct?" Draco's voice was tight with anxiety.

"I think so." Alicia smiled. "What have you decided to name the children?"


	48. Arrivals and Departures

_September 1, 2017_

"It's not like them to be late," said Hermione, as she and Ron scanned the throngs of parents and students arriving on Platform 9¾.

"Ron! Hermione!" They turned, expectantly, and saw Dean and Seamus approaching them, their children, Eli and Emma in tow. They had adopted first Eli, a muggleborn wizard who was born in Burkina Faso, in 2005. The young Gryffindor was beginning his third year. Emma, their second child, was conceived via arrangement with a surrogate witch, whom they'd met in Ireland. Emma and Rose embraced one another excitedly, while Eli assumed a bored expression and leaned against his trolley.

"They're not here yet?" asked Seamus.

"Well, it does take quite a bit of management for them to get here, I would think," Dean pointed out.

"There they are!" exclaimed Ron and Hermione's son, nine-year-old Hugo.

He pointed to a group of children, all pushing trolleys, who were followed by Harry and Draco.

"Come along, now!" Harry instructed. "Do we have everyone?"

"You have no idea how challenging it is to get two First-Years, one Third-Year, two Fifth-Years, and two Seventh-Years, plus trolleys, owls and cats through King's Cross Station!" Draco declared. "Can you believe we needed a motor coach just to get here!"

"Next year, we're coming by portkey!" Harry declared.

Harry and Draco had adopted three more children after they were first approved to become parents to the twins, whom they named Severus and Lily. Two years later, they welcomed Charity, to the family from Wales after her parents were lost in a freak encounter with a wild dragon; and Colin, whose mother died in childbirth, and who's father was serving a life sentence in Azkaban for poaching unicorns. Then, along came James who was discovered by a healer, abandoned in the lobby of St. Mungo's. Each year, Harry and Draco declared that they wouldn't take in any more children, and then they'd read another story in the paper, or hear another rumor among their friends about a child in need.

"With the size of your clan, you can just about declare yourself a Weasley, Draco!" Ron teased.

"I think we've outstripped the Weasleys, Ronald." Draco smirked. "We've got seven of our current household in school this year."

"Were they all in the same house, you _might_ have an unbeatable Quidditch team!" laughed Dean.

James and Colin were both in Gryffindor. Charity and Severus in Slytherin, while Lily was a Ravenclaw.

"We've very nearly got one in each house. Bets on whether Sirius or Ariana will wind up in Hufflepuff?" asked Harry.

"How many do you have now?" asked Seamus.

"Seven at Hogwarts and ten currently at Linden."

The couple had completely remodeled Malfoy Manor from the ground up, in order to accommodate their growing family of adopted and foster children, and renamed the estate Linden Hall, after the trees that dotted the main grounds and flourished in the surrounding forest of the property.

"Father, Lily and I have to go. So does Colin."

"Very well, Son. I am most proud of you." Draco squeezed the shoulder of his oldest son, brushing a lock of his long black hair from his shoulder. "Don't forget to say goodbye to Dad." He nodded to where Harry was organizing the younger children,

"Good on you, Severus!" said Ron. "Head Boy!"

"Thank you, Uncle Ron. Let's go, guys." He and Colin helped Lily load her luggage onto the train, and the trio bade both fathers farewell before they went to see to their assignments.

"Well done!" said Hermione. "Two prefects and Head Boy! The Potter-Malfoy family certainly leaves litte room for others, do they?" said Hermione.

"Well, up until now, there hasn't been any real competition, has there?" Draco pointed out.

"So, Rosie, you have your work cut out for you, love. No pressure." Ron teased his daughter, who grimaced with nervous embarrassment.

"Daaad!" she complained.

"Right then, Charity, James, I want you to look after Ariana and Sirius."

The children all loaded their luggage onto the train and hugs and kisses were shared all around.

* * *

"Is that Narcissa?" Seamus pointed in the direction of the barrier where, indeed Narcissa had just passed through, followed by her husband, Preston, and Morwenna. They waved, approaching quickly.

"Narcissa, Preston, we didn't expect to see you here," said Harry.

"Gran!" The other children surrounded them and more affection was shared.

"We came to see Morwenna off. She volunteered to be Faculty Chaperone on the train."

"Oh, that's right! Is the new Transfiguration Professor excited about her appointment?"

"Only slightly terrified, Brother," Morwenna replied.

"You'll do brilliantly, Morwenna," said Hermione. "Professor McGonagall says she was most impressed with your skill."

The train sounded its whistle, and the activity on the platform turned into a flurry of goodbyes and reminders to write as parents bid their children farewell, and checked to make certain that all belongings were loaded onto the train.

Students leaned from windows, waving and smiling.

"I never thought the day would come that _I_ would wish one of my children was _not_ a Slytherin," said Draco with a scowl, as he saw Charity settle into a compartment with a handsome dark-skinned boy.

"Why is that?" asked Dean.

"It appears that she has caught the interest of Thaddeus Zabini," said Harry pointing. His own expression showed clear disapproval.

"He's a seventh year, isn't he?" Seamus pulled a face.

"Sev told me that he was put up for exclusion last term," said Ron. "Something about a stash of firewhiskey and mead for a secret party?"

"Apparently, Peeves told him that he knew how to open the Chamber of Secrets, and young Zabini had planned a do, complete with alcohol and various mind-altering potions," Draco's frown deepened.

"Did they find the chamber?" Hermione asked, her face etched with worry.

"No. Peeves double-crossed him, and smashed a case of firewhiskey as Zabini's gang was trying to retrieve their hoard. Professor Flitwick caught them."

"Don't worry, Draco. I'll keep an eye on her," said Morwenna. She gave Draco a light peck on the cheek, and hugged Harry before climbing aboard the train. "See you all Sunday!" she called as the Express began to chug forward, slowly rolling from the station.

"Oh, that's right!" exclaimed Seamus. "Yer addin' another one to yer brood! What is his name?"

"Perseus."

Narcissa gasped.

"His name was Archie. He is eleven. He's been living on the streets for _two years_. He ran away from home to escape his family's abuse because he had no magic." Narcissa choked back a sob. Draco took his mother's hand, giving it a squeeze. "When we met him, he told us that sleeping in alleyways and abandoned buildings was no worse than living in the scullery where his parents made him sleep. When we informed him that he was to be adopted, he asked if he could change his name. So, Archie Cunningham is now officially, Perseus Potter-Malfoy."

* * *

"That being said, we have news!" Harry announced.

"Yes?"

"The Department of Magical Education has approved our application to open the Wiltshire Grammar School and College on the grounds at Linden Hall," said Harry.

"A school? Then why are you sending the children Hogwarts?" asked Preston.

"Wiltshire Academy is a bit different than Hogwarts." Draco explained.

"As you all know, we started out as carers for children who were displaced after the war. When we adopted Severus and Lily, the media coverage spurred more families to take in children—particularly those who had lost their own children to the war," said Harry. "But what we noticed was that very few families were willing to take in squibs."

"Curious, I spoke to Mrs. Figg, and she told me that quite a few young squibs live in muggle society, but if they've grown up with magic, the transition is often difficult. Suddenly, they're cut off from the things that they know, and some have never lived in homes with electrical appliances or automobiles. They don't have muggle friends, and some are abandoned by their families when they come of age—or like Perseus—before," said Harry.

"We'd been at a loss as to what to do with the children ourselves, when we realized that there was plenty of property on which we could build a school which provides specialized education that would help the children to integrate fully into the muggle world or establish themselves in some useful way that would keep them connected to the wizarding world," said Draco.

"With Hermione's help and the Muggle Liason Office, we located and recruited some squibs who had become teachers in muggle schools. All of the children living at Linden Hall will receive their infant and junior school instruction there. The ones who receive their letters will go on to Hogwarts, while the squibs will continue to grammar school. In addition to key stage coursework aimed at qualifying for Cambridge Pre-U or BTEC, they will take general Herbology, only working with plants which can be studied and handled without a wand, Astronomy, History of Magic, and Care of Magical Creatures—again, only working with creatures which may be studied and handled without the aid of magic. We've identified some career areas where squibs might find success in the wizarding world, and this gives them a choice of how they would like to proceed with their future."

"That is brilliant! However did you come up with the idea?" asked Dean.

"It was Harry's idea."

"It seemed so unfair to raise these children surrounded by magic, with little contact with the muggle world, and then turn them out into it. I remembered that Mrs. Figg makes her living selling cats cross-bred with kneazles. She does rather well with it, too. She has a friend who trained as a Norland Nanny, but has worked almost exclusively with wizarding families, generally those who are muggleborn or half-blood, and who require a carer with knowledge of both worlds. We sat down with Professor McGonagall and some of the other teachers, to come up with a working curriculum and educational plan that we could present to Magical Education. Once we got squib teachers on board, it was easy enough to _create_ the necessary documentation for Ofsted."

"The Ministry gave us the green light to begin this term with the remaining children at Linden Hall and a select number of students currently in care at Amddifad House, with the expectation that we will begin selecting students ahead of next year's start of term. So, Sunday, we will celebrate Perseus Potter-Malfoy's _Addition Day_ , as we like to call it, _and_ have the first official Start of Term Feast for the Wiltshire School!"

* * *

Their friends and family all congratulated Harry and Draco, promising to attend the celebration for their eighth child before departing. The couple stepped through the barrier and strolled casually through the station towards the car park hand-in-hand.

"You know, every day I am amazed that we have come this far," said Draco.

"No one could have imagined it, but not only did you dream it, my love, you made it come true." Harry squeezed his hand as they reached the street. "I think back on all that we've been through, and I still can't believe that you've loved me from the very beginning." Draco turned to Harry, one hand on his waist, the other carding his hair, and noting a strand of gray.

"Always."

* * *

 _Thank you for staying with me to the end. I appreciate the reviews, and I hope that you will take a look at some of my other stories! Until the next adventure! SUPER THANKS to J.K. Rowling for giving us these amazing characters, and fantastic worlds!_

 _**The names of Draco and Harry's children all have certain significance-_ Perseus _was cast into the sea shortly after he was born. The other children are all tributes to characters in canon who lost their lives._ James (Potter), Lily (Potter), Severus (Snape), Colin (Creevey), Sirius (Black), Charity (Burbage), _and_ Ariana (Dumbledore).


End file.
